Patricia Wentworth - Latter End

Miss Silver read the postscript of Ethel Burkett’s letter again:

“I can’t thank you enough for everything. Johnny shouldn’t need any more stockings this year, but if you have any of the grey wool left, I shall be so grateful for some for Derek. He is growing so fast.”

She smiled as she put the letter back into its envelope. The wool for Derek’s stockings was already wound, and half an inch of ribbing was on the needles.

As she got up to put Ethel’s letter away, the door opened and her invaluable Hannah announced,

“Mr. Latter-”

She saw a slight, fresh-complexioned man with a worried air. That was her first impression of Jimmy Latter-his slightness, his fresh colour, and his worry. By the time she had him sitting opposite to her and her fingers were busy with her knitting needles, she had placed him as a country gentleman who didn’t spend very much of his time in London. His clothes had come from a good tailor, but they were not new- oh, by no means. They were pre-war. Material as good as that had only again become available quite recently.

If the clothes were old, and her visitor middle-aged, she judged the worry to be new. Anxiety of long standing leaves unmistakable marks. Mr. Latter’s fresh skin showed no lines that were not pleasant ones. There were the puckers which laughter leaves about the eyes, and the moulding which it gives to the lips. Whatever the trouble was, it was quite recent. She smiled and said,

“What can I do for you?”

Jimmy Latter was wondering why he had come, and how he could get away. The smile changed the direction of his thoughts. Nice little woman, friendly little woman. Comfortable. Nice comfortable room. Rather jolly pictures. He remembered that one over the mantelpiece, hanging in Mrs. Mercer’s drawing-room as far back as when he and Minnie were children. Something about this little woman that reminded him of Minnie-nice quiet way with her-didn’t rush you. Only of course older. He said,

“Well, I don’t know-I mean, I don’t know that there’s anything you can do. I don’t know that there’s anything to be done.”

“But you have come to see me, Mr. Latter.”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Yes-I know-one does things like that, and then when you get there you feel that you are making a fool of yourself.”

The smile came again.

“Does that matter very much? I shall not think so.”

He said, “Oh, well-” and began to fidget with a bunch of keys he had fished out of his pocket. “You see, I heard about you last year from Stella Dundas-she’s a kind of cousin of mine. She couldn’t say enough about you.”

Miss Silver’s needles clicked. Derek’s sock revolved. She held her hands low, knitting with great rapidity in the Continental manner.

“I was very glad to be able to help Mrs. Dundas. It was quite a trifling matter.”

“Not to her, it wasn’t-she thought a lot of those pearls. She said it was marvellous the way you spotted the thief.”

Miss Silver inclined her head.

“Have you had something stolen, Mr. Latter?”

“Well, no, I haven’t.” He jingled the keys. “As a matter of fact it’s something a good bit more serious than that. Look here, if I tell you about it, it will be all in confidence, won’t it?”

Miss Silver gave her slight cough.

“Naturally, Mr. Latter. That is understood.”

He hesitated, swinging the key-ring to and fro.

“I suppose you get told some pretty queer things?”

She smiled again.

“You must not ask me what my other clients say.”

“Oh, no, of course not-I didn’t mean that. But this isn’t a thing to be talked about. The fact is, I don’t believe it myself, and it worries me. It’s about Lois-my wife. She thinks someone is trying to poison her.”

Miss Silver said, “Dear me!” And then, “What makes her think so?”

Jimmy Latter rumpled his hair.

“Well, it all began with her going to that fellow Memnon. I expect you’ve heard of him.”

Miss Silver coughed disapprovingly and said, “Oh, yes.”

“Well, he told her to beware of poison. But she didn’t think anything about it, you know-not until she began to have these queer attacks.”

“What kind of attacks?”

He looked very worried indeed, and he sounded worried, too.

“Nausea and retching. She’s never had anything like them before, and they come on just for nothing at all.”

“Has she seen a doctor?”

“No-she won’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“She says what’s the use? If there is someone trying to poison her, he can’t stop them-there isn’t anything one can do-well, is there? That’s what she says.”

“I cannot agree as to that. I should like to hear a little more about these attacks. When did she have the first one?”

“About a fortnight ago. She’d been up in town, and she went to see this fellow Memnon, and he warned her like I told you. She came back home-we were having a family party. After dinner, when we were all sitting in the drawing-room, she suddenly ran out of the room. She came back again presently, and I didn’t know what had happened until afterwards, but it seems she had been very sick. That was the first time.”

Miss Silver coughed.

“How long was she away from the room?”

Jimmy dropped the keys and bent to pick them up.

“About a quarter of an hour-not more.”

“You noticed that particularly?”

“I always notice when she isn’t there.”

“And how did she seem when she returned?”

He said with complete simplicity,

“I thought how beautiful she looked.”

Miss Silver knitted for a moment in silence. Then she enquired,

“Did anyone see her during the attack?”

“Oh, yes, Minnie Mercer did-Miss Mercer.”

“I will ask you to explain your household presently. You say that you were a family party. Just now I would like to know whether Mrs. Latter had anything to eat or drink which the rest of the family did not.”

“Only the coffee,” said Jimmy Latter.

When Miss Silver had elicited that Mrs. Latter was the only one of the household who took Turkish coffee, and that in fact only one other person had taken coffee at all-that the Turkish coffee was prepared by the cook in the kitchen, a drop of vanilla added, and the cup placed together with a sugar-basin and a miniature decanter of cognac upon a salver in the pantry where every member of the household could have had access to it, she shook her head slowly and said,

“A very confusing incident. When was the next attack?”

“On the following day, after lunch.”

“Was it more severe, or less?”

“About the same.”

“Did you witness the attack?”

“Yes, I did. She was very sick, poor girl.”

Miss Silver was knitting rapidly.

“But she was all right a little while afterwards? There were no ill effects?”

“No, thank God.”

“Now, Mr. Latter-what did your wife eat at lunch that the rest of the party did not?”

Jimmy rumpled his hair again.

“That’s what’s so puzzling-she didn’t have anything.”

“No coffee?”

“No.”

“Nothing to drink?”

“She doesn’t drink at meals. Slimming, you know-but she’s got a lovely figure-she doesn’t need to.”

The ribbing on Derek’s stocking was more than an inch deep. The needles twinkled briskly.

“Mr. Latter, will you tell me just what you had to eat?”

Jimmy rubbed his nose.

“Well now, let me see if I can remember. I ought to be able to, because I went over it with Minnie to see if there was anything which would account for Lois being upset, but there wasn’t. There was cold lamb and salad-lettuce, beetroot and tomato, and potatoes in their jackets. Then there was a cheese savoury, but Lois didn’t have any of that-and custard-glasses of fruit salad in syrup. She had one of those and so did I, and so did Ellie, and Antony, and Julia.”