A Pocket Full of Rye

‘Oh, Vivian, don’t. Don’t go.’

It was quite a wail, and it affected Mr Dubois adversely. His retreat quickened.

‘Awfully sorry, old girl. Important engagement. I’m putting up at the Dormy House, by the way, Inspector. If you—er—want me for anything.’

Inspector Neele nodded. He had no wish to detain Mr Dubois. But he recognized Mr Dubois’s departure for what it was. Mr Dubois was running away from trouble.

Adele Fortescue said, in an attempt to carry off the situation:

‘It’s such a shock, to come back and find the police in the house.’

‘I’m sure it must be. But you see, it was necessary to act promptly in order to obtain the necessary specimens of foodstuffs, coffee, tea, etc.’

‘Tea and coffee? But they’re not poisonous? I expect it’s the awful bacon we sometimes get. It’s quite uneatable sometimes.’

‘We shall find out, Mrs Fortescue. Don’t worry. You’d be surprised at some of the things that can happen. We once had a case of digitalis poisoning. It turned out that foxglove leaves had been picked in mistake for horseradish.’

‘You think something like that could happen here?’

‘We shall know better after the autopsy, Mrs Fortescue.’

‘The autop—oh I see.’ She shivered.

The inspector went on: ‘You’ve got a lot of yew round the house, haven’t you, madam. There’s no possibility, I suppose, of the berries or leaves having got—mixed up in anything?’

He was watching her closely. She stared at him.

‘Yew berries? Are they poisonous?’

The wonder seemed a little too wide-eyed and innocent.

‘Children have been known to eat them with unfortunate results.’

Adele clasped her hands to her head.

‘I can’t bear to talk about it any more. Must I? I want to go and lie down. I can’t stand any more. Mr Percival Fortescue will arrange everything—I can’t—I can’t—it isn’t fair to ask me.’

‘We are getting in touch with Mr Percival Fortescue as soon as possible. Unfortunately he is away in the North of England.’

‘Oh yes, I forgot.’

‘There’s just one thing, Mrs Fortescue. There was a small quantity of grain in your husband’s pocket. Could you give me some explanation of that?’

She shook her head. She appeared quite bewildered.

‘Would anyone have slipped it in there as a joke?’

‘I don’t see why it would be a joke?’

Inspector Neele did not see either. He said:

‘I won’t trouble you any further at present, Mrs Fortescue. Shall I send one of the maids to you? Or Miss Dove?’

‘What?’ The word came abstractedly. He wondered what she had been thinking about.

She fumbled with her bag and pulled out a handkerchief. Her voice trembled.

‘It’s so awful,’ she said unsteadily. ‘I’m only just beginning to take it in. I’ve really been numbed up to now. Poor Rex. Poor dear Rex.’

She sobbed in a manner that was almost convincing.

Inspector Neele watched her respectfully for a moment or two.

‘It’s been very sudden, I know,’ he said. ‘I’ll send someone to you.’

He went towards the door, opened it and passed through. He paused for a moment before looking back into the room.

Adele Fortescue still held the handkerchief to her eyes. The ends of it hung down but did not quite obscure her mouth. On her lips was a very faint smile.

CHAPTER 8 (#ulink_0517b102-385b-51dc-8702-5a97e96be1e6)

‘I’ve got what I could, sir.’ So Sergeant Hay reported. ‘The marmalade, bit of the ham. Samples of tea, coffee and sugar, for what they’re worth. Actual brews have been thrown out by now, of course, but there’s one point. There was a good lot of coffee left over and they had it in the servants’ hall at elevenses—that’s important, I should say.’

‘Yes, that’s important. Shows that if he took it in his coffee, it must have been slipped into the actual cup.’

‘By one of those present. Exactly. I’ve inquired, cautious like, about the yew stuff—berries or leaves—there’s been none of it seen about the house. Nobody seems to know anything about the cereal in his pocket, either … It just seems daft to them. Seems daft to me, too. He doesn’t seem to have been one of those food faddists who’ll eat any mortal thing so long as it isn’t cooked. My sister’s husband’s like that. Raw carrots, raw peas, raw turnips. But even he doesn’t eat raw grain. Why, I should say it would swell up in your inside something awful.’