Patricia Wentworth: The Case of William Smith

William said, ‘Those were Emily – I thought so all along. You know, I picked up a note on the pavement after the first one. It was from Mrs. Salt to Mr. Tattlecombe, and I couldn’t think how it got there.’

Miss Silver coughed gently.

‘She wore Mr. Tattlecombe’s raincoat and used the kitchen poker. Mrs. Salt found the coat quite wet, and the poker rusty. You had a most providential escape, both then and when she endeavoured to push you off the island. The next attempt – the one in which the wheel of your car was loosened – was, I imagine, the work of Miss Jones. She had driven a car for some years. I use the word imagine advisedly, because the only evidence about this attempt is of a negative character. It could not have been the work of Emily Salt, since she was in bed at the time with a sharp attack of influenza. One of the difficulties of the case has been that two separate motives were apparent, and two entirely different suspects. Emily Salt had no possible interest in the attack on Mr. Davies, and a definite alibi for the time of Mr. Tattlecombe’s accident – she was present with Mrs. Salt at a chapel Social. She also had an alibi on the occasion of the attempt on the car. And it did not appear possible to connect Mavis Jones with the two attacks on Mr. Eversley, since both his visits to Mr. Tattlecombe were unpremeditated, and she could not have known of them beforehand. At the same time I felt quite unable to believe that there was no connection between these two sets of attempts on Mr. Eversley’s life. There had to be a link, and I went to Mrs. Salt to find out what it was.’ She turned to Frank Abbott with a smile. ‘Excellent work done by Detective Donald and Detective Evans helped to make the whole position clear. In the light of their evidence I think there can be no doubt at all that Mavis Jones rang Emily Salt up on the Sunday evening. She would know that it was quite safe to do so, as Mrs. Salt never missed evening chapel. During that conversation she told Emily to meet her just round the corner in Morden Road, thus avoiding the possibility of her car being seen in Selby Street. Either at this time, or perhaps on some previous occasion, Emily must have mentioned the pot of apple honey. It would be a grievance that this very special preserve should be given away, and to the very people of whom she already felt a crazy jealousy. What is certain is that she was told to bring the pot of apple honey with her, and that she did so. Detective Evans actually saw the parcel being unwrapped while the two women were sitting in the car in the cul-de-sac behind Rasselas Mews. I feel sure that Mavis Jones avoided touching it, but that she superintended the proceedings and supplied the cyanide. As you will have heard, analysis shows that practically the whole of the poison must have been in the top of the jar and had been decanted into the little cut-glass dish which Mrs. William Eversley set out upon her tea-table. How the cyanide was obtained, we do not know.’

William frowned and said, ‘My cousins tell me there was a wasps’ nest outside the office window last summer – some cyanide was bought to deal with it.’

Miss Silver gave a reproving cough.

‘There should be more restraint upon the sale of these dangerous poisons. Procedure is at present sadly lax. A great deal of crime would be avoided if the means were not to hand. Miss Jones probably had no evil intentions when she put the surplus cyanide away. She may have forgotten that she had done so. She may have come across it by accident, or she may have remembered it – we have no means of knowing. But if she had not had this poison ready to her hand she might not have resolved upon this last, most ruthless crime which would rid her of Mr. William Eversley and of Emily Salt by a single stroke and leave her, as she supposed, in a position of complete security.’ She paused for a moment and sighed. ‘The triumphing of the wicked is short. It is all very sad, very regrettable, but I think we now know how it happened. As I said before, some excellent work has been done. I trust that Chief Detective Inspector Lamb is aware of how much I have valued his very kind cooperation.’

Frank Abbott bent over the fire, poker in hand, his face not quite under control. He had a picture of Lamb with empurpled cheeks and bulging eyes being graciously thanked for his co-operation. Maudie was marvellous – she really was. From her moralizings to her quotations from the moderns (!), from her strict hair-net to the toes of her beaded shoes, she was unique and he adored her. Her reproving cough came to his ears.

‘My dear Frank, you are really spoiling the fire. It did very well as it was.’

William and Katharine walked home together. Curious how quickly a place could become home when you were happy there. This wasn’t Carol’s flat any more – it was theirs, it was home. Because wherever they were together would be home. Coming into it with Katharine, William got the feeling he had always had when he came into the house in his dream – the feeling of safety, the feeling of something shared, the feeling of home. He couldn’t put it into words. He could only put his arms round Katharine and hold her close.

Born in Mussoorie, India, in 1878, Patricia Wentworth was the daughter of an English general. Educated in England, she returned to India, where she began to write and was first published. She married, but in 1906 was left a widow with four children, and returned again to England where she resumed her writing, this time to earn a living for herself and her family. She married again in 1920 and lived in Surrey until her death in 1961.

Miss Wentworth’s early works were mainly historical fiction, and her first mystery, published in 1923, was The Astonishing Adventure of Jane Smith. In 1928 she wrote The Case Is Closed and gave birth to her most enduring creation, Miss Maud Silver.