“That is so. Yes. Lethal dose for a penny or two anywhere.”
“Well, then - look at it!”
“I have,” Reggie murmured. “Weird case. Ghastly case.”
“Gives me the horrors,” said Bell. “The old lady comes out here to spend the day as usual, and somebody’s put a spot of poison in her drop o” tea and she dies; and her bag’s stolen, and found without a farthing where the boy Eddie hides his loot. And, about the time the old lady’s dying, Eddie tries to drown his sister. What are you going to make of that? What can you make of it? It was a poison any kid could get hold of. One of ‘em must have poisoned her to steal her little bit o’ money. But the girl’s not much more than a baby. It must have been Eddie that did it - and that goes with the rest of his doings. He’s got the habit of stealing. But his little sister saw something of it, knew too much, so he put up this drowning to stop her tongue - and then, when she was saved, made up this tale about killing her to keep her honest. Devilish, isn’t it? And when you find a child playing the devil - my oath! But it is devilish clever - his tale would put the stealing and all the rest on the baby. And we can’t prove anything else. She’s too little to be able to get it clear, and he’s made himself out driven wild by her goings on. If a child’s really wicked, he beats you.”
“Yes, that is so,” Reggie drawled. “Rather excited, aren’t you? Emotions are not useful in investigation. Prejudice the mind into exaggeratin’ facts and ignorin’ other facts. Both fallacies exhibited in your argument. You mustn’t ignore what Bessie did say - that she went into Mrs. Wiven’s room yesterday morning and Mrs. Wiven caught her. I shouldn’t wonder if you found Bessie’s fingerprints on that bag.”
“My Lord!” Bell stared at him. “It’s the nastiest case I ever had. When it comes to babies in murder - -”
“Not nice, no. Discoverin’ the possibilities of corruption of the soul. However. We haven’t finished yet. Other interestin’ facts have been ignored by Superintendent Bell. Hallo!” Several men were approaching briskly. “Is this your photographer and other experts?”
“That’s right. Photographer and fingerprint men.”
“Very swift and efficient.” Reggie went to meet them. “Where did you spring from?”
“By car, sir.” The photographer was surprised. “On the road up there. We had the location by phone.”
“Splendid. Now then. Give your attention to the lady’s skirt. Look.” He indicated a shining streak across the dark stuff. “Bring that out.”
“Can do, sir,” the photographer said, and fell to work.
Reggie turned to Bell. “Then they’ll go over the whole of her for fingerprints, what? And the sandwich paper. And the flask. Not forgettin’ the bag. That’s all. I’ve finished here. She can be taken to the mortuary for me.
“Very good,” Bell said, and turned away to give the orders, but, having given them, stood still to stare at the thin glistening streak on the skirt.
Reggie came quietly to his elbow. “You do notice that? Well, well.” Bell looked at him with a puzzled frown and was met for the first time in this case by a small, satisfied smile which further bewildered him. He bent again to pore over the streak. “It’s all right.” Reggie’s voice was soothing. “That’s on record now. Come on.” Linking arms, he drew Bell away from the photographers and the fingerprint men. “Well? What does the higher intelligence make of the line on the skirt?”
“I don’t know. I can’t make out why you think so much of it.”
“My dear chap! Oh, my dear chap!” Reggie moaned. “Crucial fact. Decisive fact.” He led Bell on out of the wood and across the common, and at a respectful distance Bell’s two personal satellites followed.
“Decisive, eh? “Bell frowned. “It was just a smear of something to me. You mean salts of lemon would leave a shiny stain?”
“Oh. no. No. Wouldn’t shine at all.”
“Had she been sick on her skirt?”
“Not there. No. Smear wasn’t human material.”
“Well, I thought it wasn’t. What are you thinking of?”
“I did think of what Eddie said - where their worm dieth not.”
“My God!” Bell muttered. “Worms?” He gave a shudder. “I don’t get you at all, sir. It sounds mad.”
“No. Connection is sort of desperate rational. I told you Eddie was like that. However. Speakin’ scientifically, not a worm, but a slug. That streak was a slug’s trail.”
“Oh. I see.” Bell was much relieved. “Now you say so, it did look like that. The sort o’ slime a slug leaves behind. It does dry shiny, of course.”
“You have noticed that?” Reggie admired him. “Splendid!”
Bell was not pleased. “I have seen slugs before,” he grunted. “But what is there to make a fuss about? I grant you, it’s nasty to think of a slug crawling over the woman as she lay there dead. That don’t mean anything, though. Just what you’d expect, with the body being all night in the wood. Slugs come out when it gets dark.”
“My dear chap! Oh, my dear chap!” Reggie moaned. “You mustn’t talk like that. Shakes confidence in the police force. Distressin’ mixture of inadequate observation and fallacious reasonin’.”
“Thank you. I don’t know what’s wrong with it.” Bell was irritated.
