It was another day. Sir Edwin Bulmer was on his feet cross-examining. He was not at all bland now. He said sharply, 'This attache case we've heard so much about. On June 28th it was left in the main hall of Hunterbury all night?'
Nurse Hopkins agreed: 'Yes.'
'Rather a careless thing to do, wasn't it?'
Nurse Hopkins flushed. 'Yes, I suppose it was.'
'Are you in the habit of leaving dangerous drugs lying about where anyone could get at 'em?'
'No, of course not.'
'Oh! You're not? But you did it on this occasion?'
'Yes.'
'And it's a fact, isn't it, that anybody in the house could have got at that morphia if they'd wanted to?'
'I suppose so.'
'No suppose about it. It is so, isn't it?'
'Well – yes.'
'It wasn't only Miss Carlisle who could have got it? Any of the servants could? Or Dr. Lord? Or Mr. Roderick Welman? Or Nurse O'Brien? Or Mary Gerrard herself?'
'I suppose so – yes.'
'It is so, isn't it?'
'Yes.'
'Was anyone aware you'd got morphia in that case?'
'I don't know.'
'Well, did you talk about it to anyone?'
'No.'
'So, as a matter of fact, Miss Carlisle couldn't have known that there was any morphia there?'
'She might have looked to see.'
'That's very unlikely, isn't it?'
'I don't know, I'm sure.'
'There were people who'd be more likely to know about the morphia than Miss Carlisle. Dr. Lord, for instance. He'd know. You were administering this morphia under his orders, weren't you?'
'Of course.'
'Mary Gerrard knew you had it there, too?'
'No, she didn't.'
'She was often in your cottage, wasn't she?'
'Not very often.'
'I suggest to you that she was there very frequently, and that she, of all the people in the house, would be the most likely to guess that there was morphia in your case.'
'I don't agree.'
Sir Edwin paused a minute. 'You told Nurse O'Brien in the morning that the morphia was missing?'
'Yes.'
'I put it to you that what you really said was, 'I have left the morphia at home. I shall have to go back for it.''
'No, I didn't.'
'You didn't suggest that the morphia had been left on the mantelpiece in your cottage?'
'Well, when I couldn't find it I thought that must have been what had happened.'
'In fact, you didn't really know what you'd done with it!'
'Yes, I did. I put it in the case.'
'Then why did you suggest on the morning of June 29th that you had left it at home?'
'Because I thought I might have.'
'I put it to you that you're a very careless woman.'
'That's not true.'
'You make rather inaccurate statements sometimes, don't you?'
'No, I don't. I'm very careful what I say.'
'Did you make a remark about a prick from a rose tree on July 27th – the day of Mary Gerrard's death?'
'I don't see what that's got to do with it!'
The judge said, 'Is that relevant, Sir Edwin?'
'Yes, my Lord, it is an essential part of the defence, and I intend to call witnesses to prove that that statement was a lie.'
He resumed. 'Do you still say you pricked your wrist on a rose tree on July 27th?'
'Yes, I did.' Nurse Hopkins looked defiant.
'When did you do that?'
'Just before leaving the lodge and coming up to the house on the morning of July 27th.'
Sir Edwin said sceptically, 'And what rose tree was this?'
'A climbing one just outside the lodge, with pink flowers.'
'You're sure of that?'
'I'm quite sure.'
Sir Edwin paused and then asked, 'You persist in saying the morphia was in the attache case when you came to Hunterbury on June 28th?'
'I do. I had it with me.'
'Supposing that presently Nurse O'Brien goes into the box and swears that you said you had probably left it at home?'
'It was in my case. I'm sure of it.'
Sir Edwin sighed. 'You didn't feel at all uneasy about the disappearance of the morphia?'
'Not – uneasy – no.'
'Oh, so you were quite at ease, notwithstanding the fact that a large quantity of a dangerous drug had disappeared?'
'I didn't think at the time anyone had taken it.'
'I see. You just couldn't remember for the moment what you had done with it?'
'Not at all. It was in the case.'
'Twenty half-grain tablets – that is, ten grains of morphia. Enough to kill several people, isn't it?'
'Yes.'
'But you are not uneasy – and you don't even report the loss officially?'
'I thought it was all right.'
'I put it to you that if the morphia had really disappeared the way it did you would have been bound, as a conscientious person, to report the loss officially.'
Nurse Hopkins, very red in the face, said, 'Well, I didn't.'
'That was surely a piece of criminal carelessness on your part. You don't seem to take your responsibilities very seriously. Did you often mislay these dangerous drugs?'
'It never happened before.'
It went on for some minutes. Nurse Hopkins, flustered, red in the face, contradicting herself – an easy prey to Sir Edwin's skill.
'Is it a fact that on Thursday, July 6th, the dead girl, Mary Gerrard, made a will?'
'She did.'
'Why did she do that?'
'Because she thought it was the proper thing to do. And so it was.'
'Are you sure it wasn't because she was depressed and uncertain about her future?'
'Nonsense.'
'It showed, though, that the idea of death was present in her mind – that she was brooding on the subject.'
