“Yes. Both stated causes of death possibly veilin’ arsenic. Complex case, this case, Lomas.”
“Damme, it always was,” said Lomas bitterly. “Now you want to make it into one of the devilish chains of murder. And we haven’t one clear piece of evidence. I couldn’t get an order to exhume these two men on your suspicions. And, if I did, if you found arsenic in the bodies, we should be no nearer proof.”
“Oh, no. That’s hopeless. At the best, we should only have association of arsenic with the Colson household, since the Colson children grew up. As Miss Pearse put it. No use.”
“Thank you. I see that,” Lomas snapped. “It’s very gratifying, isn’t it? A succession of murders, and we can do nothing.”
“Not the first time,” Bell growled. “These clever poisoners are the devil.”
“Yes. One of the devil’s best efforts,” Reggie nodded. “But not invincible, when observed. Are we down - hearted? No. Action has been taken, Lomas. Pressure is bein’ applied. The poisoner of Belair Avenue is now aware that the police are sittin’ up and takin’ notice. I made that clear to Miss Pearse. Underwood’s been makin’ it clear to servants. I should say there’ll be consequences. Swift and fruitful consequences. Good - bye.”
It is held by Superintendent Bell that the handling of this case was one of his most uncanny pieces of work. But this judgment may be biased by the speed with which results developed: a speed which, Mr. Fortune points out, was the natural consequence of the menace of frustration on the poisoner.
He had just got into his car, when a detective ran out and asked him to come back and speak to Mr. Lomas. Lomas and Underwood and Bell were still together when he returned.
“Here’s your fruitful consequences, Reginald,” Lomas said. “Young Colson’s wife has been found dead. Drowned in a pool in old Mrs. Colson’s garden.”
“Well, well,” Reggie murmured. “Who found her?”
“The daughter, Minnie Colson. Found her this morning. Body’s been removed to the mortuary.”
“Oh, Peter!” Reggie moaned. “Why?”
“Sorry. Minnie Colson pulled her out of the pool before she sent for a doctor. So we’re told. You’ll go and have a look at her, what?”
“Go and have a look at the pool,” Reggie murmured. “Come on, Underwood.”
A policeman admitted them to the murky hall of Bellagio. In a shabby morning - room the local detective - inspector received them. He considered it a very queer business. They all told the same tale. Miss Minnie Colson - she said she was going out to the girls’ club at the church last night - -”
“Cook’s night out, wasn’t it?” said Reggie, with a glance at Underwood.
“That’s right, sir. That seems to be one of the points,” the inspector agreed. “They only keep a cook and a daily girl. So the house was going to be left, except for old Mrs. Colson. That’s why Miss Minnie telephoned to young Mrs. Colson to come and sit with the old lady. So she says. And young Mrs. Colson came, and Miss Minnie went out. That would be about seven to half past - as she says. Then there’s old Mrs. Colson. She says the young woman didn’t stay long, but went off about dusk. She can’t put a time to it. The old lady was up in her own room - that’s overhead in the front - and the young woman’s short way home was to go through the garden at the back and out by the gate at the end. Then there’s her husband’s statement. He says he was dining at his club last night: says he often does. When he came home, about midnight, his wife wasn’t there. They live in a flat. After a bit he got their servant out o” bed, but she couldn’t tell him anything, except that there’d been a phone message and her mistress had gone out after. He says he sat up all night. I don’t know. If you ask me, he don’t think too much of his wife. And then this morning, about ten o’clock, so she says. Miss Minnie goes out to do a bit o’ gardening, and sees young Mrs. Colson lying in a pool they have out in the garden, pulled her out, found her dead, and sent for the doctor. The doctor says the woman was drowned some time last night. He rang us up. I didn’t get here till eleven fifteen - and by that time, you see, the body had been moved and mucked about, and the whole place was walked over.”
“Yes. I see. Yes,” Reggie murmured. “Tiresome. However. You’ve done very well. Nice, clear story. Now we’ll look at what’s left.”
They went out on to the terrace above the garden, and the inspector demonstrated: the big drop from the terrace to the lily pool in the rectangle of tiles and shrubs; the flight of steps which led down was steep; quite possible anybody in the dusk or dark might take a bad toss; the pool had a concrete bottom; it was two or three feet deep; the young woman might have tumbled into it head first, and, if she did, she might have been stunned and lay till she drowned.
“Yes. It could be,” Reggie nodded. “Quite good. All possibilities of the place considered and allowed for.”
“I wouldn’t call it likely myself,” said Underwood. “Too much ‘might have been.’”
“I’m not saying it’s likely,” the inspector agreed. “It means a lot of chances came off. But you can’t be sure the thing didn’t happen that way.”
“That’s the devil of it,” Underwood grunted. “It’s so ruddy plausible.”
“You think so?” Reggie murmured. “One difficulty. How was the toad broken?” He pointed a little finger at it. It lay on the tiles in jagged fragments of crockery.
“That - well, I don’t know where it stood,” the inspector answered. “I asked Minnie Colson; she didn’t seem to know - very vague about it. If it was on the terrace here, or on the steps, the young woman might have tripped over it - and there you are.”
“You think so?” Reggie murmured. He went slowly down the steps. “The other day, the toad was on the tiles about where it is now. I saw it from the next - door window.” He picked up one of the larger fragments. “Yes. This is its regular place. You see there’s no moss on the tiles underneath. They’re dry and clean. Yes. So the provisional hypothesis is, it was broken by the fall of young Mrs. Colson last night. And, if she fell on the toad, she didn’t fall into the pool. She was put there by hand.” He gazed solemnly at Underwood. “Broken toad indicates crime of determination.” He bent over the toad’s wreck. “Yes. Several signs of human contact with the broken toad. What was young Mrs. Colson wearing?”
“She had a long coat on, sir - rough, yellow stuff.”
“Here you are. Strands of yellow woollen fabric. Thus confirmin’ our hypothesis. Young Mrs. Colson fell down the steps on to the toad, and was stunned by the fall. Then dragged into the pool to drown while unconscious. Other indications confirm that. See the streaks in the moss on the tiles? Something was pulled across lately. Also the toad made further contacts. Somebody scraped a shoe on this fragment. You see? Black leather - fine leather. Probably kid. However. Not providin’ any explanation of the first act - how she fell.”
“Taking it altogether, I should say she was pushed,” said Underwood.
“Yes. Quite possible. Perhaps probable. But further investigation required.” Slowly he climbed the steps, again looking closely at each and the iron railings on either side. Just below the top he stood still. He pointed a little finger at the railings. “What about that, inspector?”
