Three Act Tragedy

has our Doctor Davis.”

“I always thought it was a kind of disease you got from over-smoking.”

“To tell the truth, so did I, Sir. But the doctor says that the pure alkaloid is an odourless liquid, and that a few drops of it are enough to kill a man almost instantaneously.”

Sir Charles whistled.

“Potent stuff.”

“As you say, Sir. And yet it’s in common use, as you might say. Solutions are used to spray roses with. And of course it can be extracted from ordinary tobacco.”

“Roses,” said Sir Charles. “Now, where have I heard -?”

He frowned, then shook his head.

“Anything fresh to report, Crossfield?” asked Colonel Johnson.

“Nothing definite, sir. We’ve had reports that our man Ellis has been seen at Durham, at Ipswich, at Balham, at Land’s End, and a dozen other places. That’s all got to be sifted out for what it’s worth. He turned to the other two. The moment a man’s description is circulated as wanted, he’s seen by someone all over England.”

“What is the man’s description?” asked Sir Charles.

Johnson took up a paper.

“John Ellis, medium height, say five-foot seven, stoops slightly, grey hair, small side whiskers, dark eyes, husky voice, tooth missing in upper jaw, visible when he smiles, no special marks or characteristics.”

“H’m,” said Sir Charles. “Very nondescript, bar the side whiskers and the tooth, and the first will be off by now, and you can’t rely on his smiling.”

“The trouble is,” said Crossfield, “that nobody observes anything. The difficulty I had in getting anything but the vaguest description out of the maids at the Abbey. It’s always the same. I’ve had descriptions of one and the same man, and he’s been called tall, thin, short, stout, medium height, thickset, slender – not one in fifty really uses their eyes properly.”

“You’re satisfied in you own mind, Superintendent, that Ellis is the man?”

“Why else did he bolt, sir? You can’t get away from that.”

“That’s the stumbling block,” said Sir Charles thoughtfully.

Crossfield turned to Colonel Johnson and reported the measures that were being taken. The Colonel nodded approval and then asked the Superintendent for the list of inmates of the Abbey on the night of the crime. This was handed to the two new inquirers. It ran as follows:

MARTHA LECKIE, cook.

BEATRICE CHURCH, upper-housemaid.

DORIS COCKER, under-housemaid.

VICTORIA BALL, between-maid.

ALICE WEST, parlourmaid.

VIOLET BASSINGTON, kitchenmaid.

(Above have all been in service of deceased for some time and bear good character. Mrs. Leckie has been there for fifteen years.)

GLADYS LYNDON – secretary, thirty-three, has been secretary to Sir Bartholomew Strange for three years, can give no information as to Likely motive.

GUESTS:

LORD and LADY EDEN, 187 Cadogan Square.

SIR JOCELYN and LADY CAMPBELL, 1256 Harley Street.

MISS ANGELA SUTCLIFFE, 28 Cantrell Mansions, S.W.3.

CAPTAIN and MRS. DACRES, 3 St. John’s House, W.I.(Mrs. Dacres carries on business as Ambrosine, Ltd., Brook Street.)

LADY MARY and MISS HERMIONE LYTTON GORE, Rose Cottage, Loomouth.

MISS MURIEL WILLS, 5 Upper Cathcart Road, Tooting.

MR. OLIVER MANDERS, Messrs. Speier Ross, Old Broad Street, E.C.2.

“H’m,” said Sir Charles. “The Tooting touch was omitted by the papers. I see young Manders was there, too.”

“That’s by the way of being an accident, sir,” said Superintendent Crossfield. “The young gentleman ran his car into a wall just by the Abbey, and Sir Bartholomew, who I understood was slightly acquainted with him, asked him to stay the night.”

“Careless thing to do,” said Sir Charles cheerfully.

“It was that, sir,” said Superintendent. “In fact, I fancy myself the young gentleman must have had one over the eight, as the saying goes. What made him ram the wall just where he did I can’t imagine, if he was sober at the time.”

“Just high spirits, I expect,” said Sir Charles.

“Spirits it was, in my opinion, sir.”

“Well, thank you very much, Superintendent. Any objection to our going and having a look at the Abbey, Colonel Johnson?”

“Of course not, my dear sir. Though I’m afraid you won’t learn much more there than I can tell you.”

“Anybody there?”

“Only the domestic staff, sir,” said Crossfield. “The house-party left immediately after the inquest, and Miss Lyndon has returned to Harley Street.”

“We might, perhaps, see Dr. – er – Davis, too?” suggested Mr. Satterthwaite.

“Good idea.”

They obtained the doctor’s address, and having thanked Colonel Johnson warmly for his kindness, they left.

8

As they walked along the street, Sir Charles said:

“Any ideas, Satterthwaite?”

“What about you?” asked Mr. Satterthwaite. He liked to reserve judgment until the last possible moment.

Not so Sir Charles. He spoke emphatically:

“They’re wrong, Satterthwaite. They’re all wrong. They’ve got the butler on the brain. The butler’s done a bunk – ergo, the butler’s the murderer. It doesn’t fit. No, it doesn’t fit. You can’t leave that other death out of account – the one down at my place.”

“You’re still of the opinion that the two are connected?”

Mr. Satterthwaite asked the question, though he had already answered it in the affirmative in his own mind.

“Man, they must be connected. Everything points to it… We’ve got to find the common factor – someone who was present on both occasions – ”

“Yes,” said Mr. Satterthwaite. “And that’s not going to be as simple a matter as one might think, on the face of it. We’ve got too many common factors. Do you realise, Cartwright, that practically every person who was present at the dinner at your house was present here?”

Sir Charles nodded.

“Of course I’ve realised that – but do you realise what deduction one can draw from it?”

“I don’t quite follow you, Cartwright.”

“Dash it all, man, do you suppose that’s coincidence? No, it was meant. Why are all the people who were at the first death present at the second? Accident? Not on your life. It was plan – design – Tollie’s plan.”

“Oh!” said Mr. Satterthwaite. “Yes, it’s possible… ”

“It’s certain. You didn’t know Tollie as well as I did, Satterthwaite. He was a man who kept his own counsel,