Patricia Wentworth: Latter End

The police analyst, recalled, deposed to having examined the box, and to having discovered particles of a white powder adhering to the sides and bottom under the dried rose-leaves. Traces of morphia had been found. The powder was identical with specimens from Mrs. Latter’s bathroom.

There were no more witnesses.

The Coroner summed up briskly. The jury retired. The hall broke into sound.

The party from Latter End sat silent whilst the village hummed. They did not even speak to one another. Julia looked once at Minnie, and hoped with all her heart that she wasn’t going to faint. Jimmy Latter looked at no one. He sat on the end seat of the front row with the wall on his left, pitch-pine and sticky with varnish, and his cousin Antony on his right. All that anyone else could see of him was the back of his head, and perhaps a glimpse of ear and cheek. He sat there and looked down at the boarded floor. The boards had sprung a little and there was dust in the cracks. A very small spider came up out of the dust and ran along one of the boards. It ran a few inches and then stopped, crouched down and shamming dead. Jimmy watched it with a strained attention. Would it go on, or would it stay where it was? What made it come out of the crack, and why did it stop and pretend to be dead? What made people do any of the things they did do? What made Lois try to poison him?

The spider moved, ran another inch or two, and went dead again. He went on watching it.

The jury were only out for a quarter of an hour. Their foreman, a big hearty looking farmer, said his say in a very slow, weighty, and deliberate manner. He had a paper in his hand, and he read from it.

“We find that the deceased lady died of morphia poisoning-that the morphia was in the coffee which she prepared for her husband and placed beside his chair-that Miss Mercer exchanged the cups without knowing that there was poison in one of them, and that she is in no way to blame for what happened. And we would like to say that we are quite satisfied that she took all proper precautions about keeping the morphia locked up, and that she is in no way to blame.”

There was a murmur of applause, immediately checked by the Coroner.

“That is a verdict of Accidental Death.”

“Yes, sir. But we want it put on record that there was no one else to blame. And we’d like, if it’s proper, to express our sympathy with Mr. Latter.”

Jimmy Latter got up and went out by the side door. Antony went with him. A moment later the rest of the party followed them. The village of Rayne was left to the discussion of the biggest sensation it had had since Cromwell’s troopers stabled their horses in the church.

Antony came out of the study. He met Minnie and Julia, and was in two minds about delivering his message. She looked as if she had come to the end of her strength, almost to the end of everything. Julia said, “What is it?” and it was to her he spoke.

“He wants to see Minnie-but she doesn’t look fit.” Minnie Mercer straightened herself. When we think we have come to the end, there is always something left. She couldn’t have found it for herself, but she found it for Jimmy. She went into the study and shut the door. He was standing by the window with his back to her. He didn’t turn round. When she had come up to him he moved to make room for her. They sat down side by side upon the window seat. It was some time before he spoke. Whilst that time went by, her fear was passing too. It had tormented her day and night since Lois died-the fear that Jimmy would hate her for what she had done. She had done it innocently, but perhaps he would never be able to forget that she had done it. If he had had the thought, she would have known it, sitting there beside him with the silence round them. She had known him so long and so well, and had loved him so deeply, that he could not have hidden the thought. It came to her with a clear certainty that there was nothing to hide. He was desperately hurt, desperately unhappy. He needed comfort, her poor Jimmy, and he needed her.

He said at last, “It’s a bad business, Min.”

“Yes, my dear.”

After another pause he put out a hand and touched hers.

“You saved my life.”

She couldn’t speak. The touch had been withdrawn at once. After a moment he said,

“I don’t seem to take it in yet. I’ve been a great trouble to everyone. They’ve all been so good to me. Will you tell them, and say I’m going to do my best? Everybody’s been so good.”

“Yes, I’ll tell them.”

He leaned back against the window jamb. She felt that he was relieved-that he had said something that was difficult to say and it had relieved him. She knew as well as if he had put it into words that what he had really said was, “You saved my life. I won’t throw it away.” The most terrible weight of all was lifted from her.

After a little he began to talk about Ronnie Street.

“I’ve told Ellie she can bring him here any time after the funeral. It won’t be too much for you, will it, if Mrs. Huggins comes in every day?”

“No, it won’t be too much. She’s been coming the last few days.”

He rubbed his nose with the old familiar gesture.

“If you want more help, will you arrange about it? You and Ellie mustn’t do too much. Julia said you were doing too much. I want you to arrange about everything just as you used to… You won’t go away, Min?”

“Not if you want me.”

“I’ve always wanted you. I want you to take everything over. I don’t want those people who were coming, the butler and the two maids. Will you see about that-pay them something and say we’re making other arrangements? We don’t want strangers here just now. Only you and Ellie mustn’t do too much-I can’t have that.”

“I’ll see about everything, Jimmy. Connie Traill would come in for an hour or two in the morning if we wanted her. It might be a good thing-until Ronnie is on his feet again. It would give Ellie a rest.”

They slipped into a discussion which was so like old times that both of them were taken back to the days before Lois came.

Miss Silver never returned from a case without experiencing a very deep and heartfelt gratitude. For many years of her life she had lived permanently in other people’s houses. For many years of her life she had seen no prospect before her of doing anything else until, too elderly for her services as governess to be any longer in request, she retired to exist on the few shillings a week which her savings might bring in. You cannot save very much from the salary which governesses at that time received. To think of this, and then to see the front door of her little flat thrown wide with her faithful Emma waiting to welcome her, to come into her sitting-room and to behold its modest comfort-the pictures on its walls, the rows of photographs framed in plush, in beaten metal, in silver filigree, all speaking of valued friendships-never failed to evoke feelings of thankfulness.

If it made her happy to have these things for herself, it made her still happier to be able to share them with others- to pour tea from a Victorian silver teapot, and to dispense the sandwiches and little cakes in the making of which Emma Meadows excelled.

On the day after her return from Latter End, Sergeant Abbott dropped in to tea. For him Emma produced three separate kinds of sandwich, as well as drop scones which melted in the mouth, and a honeycomb which she would not ordinarily have produced for a visitor.

Frank gazed at the loaded cake-stand and groaned.

“If I came here as often as I’d like to I should be getting a Chief Inspector’s figure, and then as likely as not they’d never make me one.”