where the poison came from. So does Dame Beatrice, I think. The only problem is to find out which of them actually sent it, and also why. I think I know, but I hesitate to commit myself. Rash statements have an awkward way, like those problem chickens one hears mentioned, of coming home to roost.’
‘When I am a girl,’ said Rebekah, ‘we are finding the hens’ eggs in a silly hedge.’
‘You are not referring to a cuckoo in the nest, by any chance?’
‘If there are cuckoos, they are Derde and Sweyn. What do they make, passing up on their father’s money, the way it is?’ Her tone changed. She turned to Dame Beatrice. ‘You are not letting my Bernie be hanged, you say?’ Dame Beatrice reassured her.
‘A neck God made for other use than strangling in a string,’ quoted Bernardo, to the fury of his grandmother.
‘Ingrateful! Here I am saving you from the hanging.’
‘
‘I think,’ said Dame Beatrice, ‘that the time has come for us to put our cards on the table.’
‘A show-down, yes,’ said Rebekah, emphatically. ‘Then we all know where we are, and I go to a grand slam.’
‘I doubt it,’ said her grandson, ‘but it may clear the air a bit. Dame Beatrice, will you take first innings?’
‘So she shall give us ideas we do not have,’ objected Rebekah.
‘You may well be right, Mrs Rose,’ agreed Dame Beatrice. ‘Why should we not write down what we believe to be the truth and so compare notes? As I see it, there are four basic questions to be answered. Where did the poison come from in the first place? Who impregnated the chocolate-cream with it? Did Mr Florian Colwyn-Welch know or guess that the chocolate-cream was poisoned? If he did know this, or guess it, why did he give it to Effie the barmaid? Why not have thrown it away?’
‘Yes, I write my answers to all that,’ said Rebekah, ‘but I am not carrying pencils and paper.’
Bernardo took out a fountain pen and a used envelope. His grandmother twitched away the envelope, read the superscription on it and the date on the postmark, sniffed and handed it back. She gestured at his pen.
‘Fountain pen is old-fashioned,’ she sneered. ‘So you are not with it. Should be ball-point.’
‘This pen was a present from the family, darling, and, by the way, Dame Beatrice is trying to hand you a scribbling block and a silver pencil.’
‘Hall-marked?’
‘Hall-marked,’ Dame Beatrice assured her.
‘At trade price, with diamond in the top, I get you a
Dame Beatrice did not commit herself to purchasing a diamond-topped gold pencil, even at trade price. She picked up the house telephone and made contact with Laura, who appeared in the doorway.
‘We are going to do a little writing,’ Dame Beatrice explained. ‘When we have answered the questions, I shall require you to help me to scrutinise the answers.’
‘Well!’ exclaimed Laura, when Rebekah and her grandson had gone. ‘So
‘She has a persecution complex,’ said Dame Beatrice, ‘and, of course, the strongest affection for her grandson.’
‘Yes, you were right about that,’ said Laura. ‘Well, now, what about this analysis?’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Analysis of Three Reactions
‘… for the honour of human nature, we should be glad to find the shocking tale not true.’
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Dame Beatrice took up the papers and studied them. She had written her own answers for purposes of comparison with those of Rebekah and Bernardo and she found comparison illuminating. Summarised, to some extent, the papers read:
dame beatrice: Likely, but not absolutely certain, that the hydrocyanic acid came from the Colwyn-Welch apartment in Amsterdam, for Binnen
bernardo: No doubt prussic acid could have been obtained by my great-aunt Binnen, who was an undercover agent of some sort during the war.
rebekah: Binnen may have been given means of suicide in case of being captured by (unprintable) pigs of Gestapo. She was helping escapes.
