Patricia Wentworth - Latter End

Frank Abbott gazed at her with unfeigned admiration.

“The nonpareil and wonder of her kind!”

“My dear Frank!”

He said hastily, “Go on-I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“That night Miss Mercer walked in her sleep. She would, I am sure, have crossed the hall to the drawing-room, but Miss Julia turned her back. When she said in tones of the deepest distress ‘What have I done!’ I was quite sure that I was on the right track. On the following night, as you know, she again walked in her sleep. This time she re-enacted the events of Wednesday night. With what I had already guessed, it was clear to me that she took an imaginary cup from the tray and set it down by Mr. Latter’s chair. She then came back with her hand still out before her as if it were holding a cup. She came like this as far as the table where the tray had been, and then stretched out her hand again as if she were putting something down. She said, ‘Oh, God-what have I done!’ and I felt quite sure that the mystery was solved.

Next morning at breakfast I had a natural opportunity of enquiring whether Mr. Latter liked his tea or coffee sweet. When I received the reply that he never took more than one lump in either, I concluded that this would be Miss Mercer’s reason for having changed the cups. Meanwhile Polly’s evidence had provided proof that Mrs. Latter had deliberately prepared the powdered morphia.”

“When do you think she took it? Before the scene between Mr. Latter and Miss Mercer on Tuesday evening, when Miss Mercer said she thought the morphia bottle had been moved?”

Miss Silver’s needles clicked.

“Oh, yes, she had taken it before then-possibly whilst the family were at breakfast. You will remember that she had hers in her room. The scene in Mr. Antony’s room had taken place during the night. The idea of getting rid of her husband may not have been a new one, but after that scene I believe she decided to proceed to extremities. Probably all the family knew where Miss Mercer kept the key of her medicine-cupboard. Mrs. Latter found the morphia, took what she wanted, wiped the bottle carefully, and put it back, not inside the box from which she had taken it, but on the shelf. You see, it was certainly part of her plan that Mr. Latter should be supposed to have committed suicide. She therefore left the bottle where it would have been convincingly easy to find. Just before lunch she crushed the tablets and put the powder into that little snuffbox. Then, some time after seven in the evening, Gladys Marsh came to her with her tale of Mr. Latter being in Miss Mercer’s room asking her for something to make him sleep. When she heard that he had actually handled the morphia bottle, that Miss Mercer had told him it was dangerous and he had replied, ‘I don’t care how dangerous it is so long as it makes me sleep,’ she must indeed have felt that she had all the cards in her hand. Consider, for instance-if Miss Mercer had not changed those cups and Mr. Latter had died of morphia poisoning, would there have been any question of murder? There was Gladys Marsh’s evidence that he had said, ‘I don’t care how dangerous it is so long as it makes me sleep’-evidence which Miss Mercer would have been bound to confirm. He had actually handled the morphia bottle. There could have been no suspicion of anything except suicide. A local jury would probably have brought in a verdict of accidental death. They would have taken the line that he was so desperate for sleep as to be reckless of the dose he took, a conclusion warranted by his own words. Mrs. Latter must have thought that the way before her was a safe and easy one. And then Miss Mercer changed the cups.”

Frank looked at her with a sparkle in his eyes.

“The Perfect Moral Tract!” Then, rather hastily, “How much do you suppose Antony had to do with it? Did she go off the deep end about him, or was she just fed to the teeth with Jimmy Latter?”

Miss Silver coughed.

“You want to know more than I can tell you. I am inclined to think that she was thoroughly disappointed in her marriage and beginning to realize that however much her husband adored her, there were some things she could not make him do. He would not leave Latter End and live in London, and he did not like her friends. At the time she married him she was, I gather, financially embarrassed and very uncertain as to the outcome of the case which was pending over her first husband’s will. If she had been certain of the money she would, I feel sure, have preferred Antony Latter. She did not care enough for him to take him as he was, but once she was financially secure she wished to get him back. The fact that he was no longer in love with her, and that he was quite obviously attracted by Miss Julia roused up all the wilful obstinacy of her nature. Everyone to whom I talked had the same thing to say about her. They put it in different ways, but this is what it amounted to-if she wanted a thing she had to have it.”

Frank reached for the last sandwich. After a moment he said,

“Did you ever take Mrs. Maniple seriously?”

“Oh, my dear Frank, I took her very seriously indeed. Not, of course, as a principal in the murder. But as a Contributory Circumstance-oh, dear me, yes.”

Mrs. Maniple as a Contributory Circumstance was very nearly too much for Sergeant Abbott. He escaped choking by a very narrow margin. He straightened his face with difficulty and contrived to utter the single word,

“Perpend.”

Miss Silver was not unwilling to do so.

“I found it quite impossible to believe that the person responsible for those preliminary attacks had any design on Mrs. Latter’s life. The effects were much too slight and too transitory. But as soon as I began to suspect Mrs. Latter herself I saw how these attacks would bring the idea of poison quite vividly before her mind. They would suggest the method of administering it, and the fact that she was genuinely uneasy on her own account may have had its share in urging her to put an end to the situation. This is, of course, mere speculation. I myself am inclined to wonder whether-” She broke off, leaving the sentence unfinished, a thing so unusual as to arouse Frank Abbott’s liveliest curiosity.

“Come-you can’t leave it at that! What did you wonder?”

Miss Silver set down her knitting on her knee, looked at him gravely, and said,

“There have been moments when I have wondered whether her first husband died a natural death.”

Frank shook his head at her.

“You know, the Chief really does suspect you of keeping a private broomstick. He was brought up on tales of witches, and you revive them quite uncomfortably.”

Miss Silver smiled.

“A most respectable man. We are on excellent terms. But I think you have something to tell me.”

“Well, not very much, but here it is for whatever it’s worth. The Chief sent me down to make a few enquiries. I saw the doctor who attended Doubleday. I could see that he had had some uncomfortable moments. Doubleday was ill, but he wasn’t all that ill. He might have died the way he did, but- it was a bit unexpected. The doctor himself was away, and a young partner was called in. It was just the sort of case that would be all right ninety-nine times out of a hundred, but the hundredth time there could be something fishy about it. Well, of course no doctor on earth wants to upset his private practice for a hundred-to-one chance like that. I don’t think he thought very much about it until it began to leak out that Doubleday had just signed a new will very much in Mrs. Doubleday’s interest, and that the relations were going to contest it. I think that’s when he had his uncomfortable moments, but he hadn’t really anything to go on and he held his tongue. Presently he heard with considerable relief that the case had been settled out of court. He’d have been called as a witness of course, and I imagine he wasn’t looking forward to it. Of course you’ll understand he didn’t tell me any of this, except that Doubleday had died when he was away, and that it was all according to Cocker. I had to read between the lines with a pretty strong microscope, but I came away with quite an idea that Mrs. Latter had played the game before. They say the poisoner always perseveres.”