I recognised it. But we can make sure very easily. If I am not mistaken, you put up a trophy of some of my curios in the hall. We’ll have a look at it now.’
He gave her a puzzled look, then nodded. ‘I don’t know what you mean, but we can go there if you think it will help us.’
She rose, threw her cigarette into the grate, and preceded him into the hall.
On one of the walls, at a considerable height from the ground, hung a small trophy of South American Indian arms. Chief among them was a blow-pipe and a little receptacle for darts.
‘Get a step-ladder,’ said Elaine, as he came behind her, and followed her glance upwards.
He stood still for a moment, his brows knotted, then went off. When he came back with a light step-ladder he had got in the kitchen, he began to adjust it.
‘Lucky the servants have their own stairs,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I have asked them not to begin cleaning in this part of the house till I tell them. Grover was just coming down when I stopped him.’
She nodded assent, placed the step-ladder near the wall and mounted it before he could, stop her. With a quick hand she detached the miniature quiver for darts, and brought it down.
‘There were six, weren’t there?’ she asked.
He gaped, beginning to see her point, then nodded vigorously. ‘Yes. But surely—’
She took out the darts from the receptacle with the utmost care. ‘I really ought not to have let you have these,’ she murmured, ‘but it can’t be helped now.’
‘There are only five,’ he said, staring at the venomous things in her hand.
She nodded grimly. ‘Just five. Now we know where we are.’
Mr Barley’s eyes grew wide with horror. ‘Then you think that thing upstairs—?’ he began.
‘I am sure of it,’ said Elaine.
‘But they were not poisoned surely?’ he gasped. ‘The other day, you know, you showed us how that pipe was used.’
Elaine nodded. ‘The chief from whom I got those had a couple of dozen made for me. The poisoning is a later operation. Naturally, I used harmless darts.’
‘Good heavens!’ he cried, ‘is that what you meant about the window being open?’
She nodded. ‘I have seen people shot with those poisoned darts. Something in her face reminded me. But wasn’t that a door opening upstairs?’
He left her, and went upstairs. He returned in a few minutes, followed by the doctor and the police sergeant. Elaine had removed the step-ladder by that time, and was standing near the door of the library. Mr Barley opened that door, let the two men in, and signalled to Elaine to accompany them.
‘Sit down, gentlemen,’ he said, when he had closed the door. ‘Please sit down too, Miss Gurdon.’
They sat down. Dr Browne looked at Elaine, and then at Mr Barley. ‘Well, Mr Barley, I am sorry to say that my conjecture was only too true. An alkaloid poison seems to have been the cause of death, and I have no doubt it had been placed on the point of the little sliver of wood I found implanted just under the left scapula, the shoulder-blade of your unfortunate guest.’
Mr Barley shot a glance at Elaine. ‘I have telephoned for the superintendent at Elterham. He is coming. Perhaps we had better wait for him before we go any further.’
Dr Browne shrugged. The sergeant nodded. ‘Very well, sir, that might be best. But perhaps I could make a few notes now.’
‘Most of my guests are still abed.’
‘I suppose so, sir; but you might tell me how you came to know something was amiss.’
‘That, of course, I can do,’ said Mr Barley, and coughed nervously. ‘After that, if you will both be good enough to remain in this room for a while, I shall have breakfast sent into you. You see, I have the guests to consider. I should prefer not to alarm them now, but to inform them of the tragic event when they have breakfasted. They will then be at your disposal.’
Browne shrugged. The sergeant nodded again. Mr Barley went on: ‘As for myself, I heard a curious noise a little while ago. It seemed like a sound made by someone in pain. It was followed by what seemed a dull thud. I got up hurriedly to dress, when I heard a knock on my door.’
The policeman noted that down. ‘Yes, sir?’
‘It was Miss Gurdon, who had come to tell me that Mrs Tollard was dying, or dead. It appears she had heard the sound, and gone in to see what was the matter.’
The doctor and the sergeant turned their eyes quickly on Elaine Gurdon. She nodded, her eyes anxious, but not afraid.
ELAINE GURDON’S aplomb had been the admiration of her friend. It had never been more apparent than now.
‘Don’t you think, on the whole, it would be wiser to—to allow the superintendent to hear my statement?’ she asked, in a low but clear voice. ‘It will save going over it twice. I did, of course, find Mrs Tollard dead, as Mr Barley says, but any light I may be able to throw on it may be better exhibited to your chief, sergeant.’
He plucked at his lip uncertainly. He was not very sure of his powers in a case like this, and it was unlikely in the end that the detective force in Elterham would allow him to take the thing up.
‘As you please, Miss,’ he said.
Mr Barley seemed about to say something; perhaps with reference to the darts, but a glance from Elaine stopped him. This glance was not noticed by the sergeant, who was putting away, his note-book, but it did not escape the doctor’s eye.
In the end, it was agreed that breakfast should be sent into the library for the two men, Mr Barley was to inform his guests of the ocurrence after breakfast, and, on the arrival of the superintendent from Elterham, everyone in the house would be questioned as to their knowledge of the facts that might bear on the tragedy, or their (more probable) ignorance of anything throwing a light on it.
Only Dr Browne was slightly dissatisfied. He thought Elaine too calm and self-possessed for the occasion, and he could not forget how, at her lecture, he had seen her exhibit a blow-pipe, and tell her audience that, on occasion, she had shot birds for the pot with this primitive weapon. An idea in his mind that the alkaloid poison which had killed Mrs Tollard might be the well-known woorali, more scientifically known as curare, at once made the connection. There are few doctors who do not know how this poison was first used.
Added to that was her desire to postpone her statement, and the fact that it was she who had found Mrs Tollard dead. It was, it is true, not very obvious why she should prefer to tell her story to the superintendent, but it struck him as rather queer. The sergeant, of course, did not see that. He was a slow-thinking man, who could only get
