To the base of one rail a piece of string was tied - thin, green string. The loose end of it had been blown into the shrubs below. The inspector gathered it up. “Don’t seem to have been broken. But there’s a bit of dirt at the end. Tied to the other railing, and jerked off, I should say - the knot pulled loose - when the strain came. That’s it, a trip line to bring the young woman down.”
“Yes. That is indicated,” Reggie drawled. “Tied with a granny - knot. Well, well.” He gazed at the inspector and Underwood, and his round face was without expression. “Proceedin’ on these facts, you’d better occupy the attention of the ladies Colson - telling ‘em nothing - while Underwood goes through the house lookin’ for green string and a black kid shoe with a scratch on it. Is the man Colson here? No? Gone back to his widower’s home? You might ask him to come and have another heart - to - heart talk. I should be ready for him this afternoon. I must go and have a look at the dead woman now. Oh - Underwood - drop in next door and ask our Miss Pearse where the first Colson had his stroke, will you? Sort of question to keep her interested - which might be useful. I was wonderin’ if he had it on the tiles. And another little question - ask cook if Minnie Colson eats saffron herself. Good - bye.”
In the squalid mortuary of Langdon he examined the body of young Mrs. Colson. She was not beautiful in death. Her face stared at him, swollen and pale, the pencilling about her blood - shot eyes smeared on the pouches below, the grease - paint on her lips lurid and grotesque across the bloated pallor… .
It was some hours before he came back to the Colson house, and, in that dingy room off the hall, told Underwood his results. “Cause of death, drowning. Several bruises on head and body before death. Tear in the coat. Provisional hypothesis thus confirmed. Also, she’d had some drink shortly before death. Probably cocktails. She drank a good deal. Didn’t live a very nice life. That’s the medical evidence. What have you got? Identified our criminal of determination?”
“I rather think I’ve got a case, sir. I’ve found a ball of green string. In a cupboard in the room Minnie Colson uses for a sort of study. You never saw such a muck of a place. It’s a tumbled muddle of odds and ends - needlework, woolwork, church papers, girls’ club stuff, letters, and accounts all over the place. In the cupboard she keeps gardening things - gloves and basket and clippers, and what not - and there was this ball of green string. And what else do you think I found?”
“Oh, weed - killer. Arsenical weed - killer.”
“That’s right,” Underwood nodded. “It does look like a case now, don’t it?”
“Yes. If we could prove Mills got his arsenic here. Which we can’t. However. What about the shoes?”
“Minnie Colson’s shoes, put out to clean last night, are black kid, and they’re both scratched. Look here.”
“Yes. As you say,” Reggie murmured. “And what does the cook say? Does Minnie like saffron?”
“Never eats any cake, sir. Being bilious, I’m told. Only makes cakes and pastry for other people. So there you are.”
“Yes. These defects of eatin’ power are a factor. Dominatin’ factor. If Mrs. Colson junior had only eaten normally, quite a different case. However. What about our Miss Pearse? Could she tell you where grandfather Colson had his stroke?”
“She could, sir. She said he was found out there on the tiles, below the terrace.” Underwood looked at Reggie, rather like a dog, admiration and a certain awe in his brown eyes. “That was a facer to me. I don’t Imow how you got to it.”
“Workin’ on a series,” Reggie mumbled. “Repetitions probable. Grandfather found unconscious - like Mills - possibly after knock-out dose of arsenic - down there under the terrace - like young Mrs. Colson - possibly tripped on the steps. That was in 1914. Eighteen years ago. After the children grew up. As Miss Pearse was careful to indicate. By the way, has our Miss Pearse been in to condole with the bereaved?”
“Yes, sir. When I saw her, she said she must come in and see old Mrs. Colson, and she came and stayed some time.”
“Very proper. She is proper,” Reggie purred. “Well, well. At the time of grandfather’s death, I should say Minnie was twenty - five or so. And her brother was - what?”
“Oh, about the same. He’s over forty, I’ll swear. I phoned for him, like you said, and he’s come. He’s with his mother.” Reggie nodded, and sat silent in meditation which seemed gratifying. “Well - I suppose the next thing is to put Miss Minnie through it?” Underwood suggested.
Reggie gazed at him solemnly. “Is she with her mother, too?”
“No. Miss Pearse sent her away to lie down. She’s in her own room.”
“That’s all right. Minnie can wait. I’ll talk to mamma. Go and tell the son to clear out, and stand by.”
Old Mrs. Colson’s bedroom was large and furnished with mid - Victorian state. Through its close - curtained windows only dim light could enter, but that did not conceal the faded age of all its colours. She lay on a couch, in a corner, covered with an eiderdown quilt which had been pink before it turned grey. Reggie saw in her no likeness to her lank, ungainly daughter. The old face was tired and sorrowful, but composed to calm endurance. Above the quilt, her dress showed an ample bosom. Everything about her was in a pretty order - the abundance of grey hair, the little, plump, white hands, the lace at her neck. But her dark, deep - set eyes gazed at the two men as if they were not there.
Underwood began with something apologetic about necessary enquiries. “I understand,” she said gently. “Pray forgive me, I am not as young as I was. Ask me what you wish. I will tell you anything I can.”
“Needn’t ask you very much,” Reggie murmured. “Did your son know his wife was coming here last night?”
“Dear me, no. Nobody knew. Nobody thought of the poor child coming till Minnie suggested telephoning to ask her to sit with me. It was just Minnie’s idea.”
“I see.” Reggie nodded. “And how was the lady when she came?”
“Quite well. Just as usual.”
“Oh, yes. Did it occur to you she’d been drinking?”
Mrs. Colson raised herself a little. “I never thought of such a thing. It is cruel to suggest it.”
“You think so? She did drink, didn’t she?”
“That is an amazing thing to say.”
