Ngaio Marsh - Death At The Bar

“Why did you do that?”

Abel rubbed his chin and glanced uncomfortably at the other witnesses.

“Seemed like they’d had enough, sir.”

“This was before the experiment with the deceased’s hand, of course,” said the ooroner to the jury. “Yes, Mr. Pomeroy? How much was in the glasses on the second round?”

“ ’Bout a finger and half, sir, I reckon.”

“Did you hand the drinks round yourself?”

Abel said: “I don’t rightly remember. Wait a bit, though. I reckon Mr. Watchman handed first round to everyone.” Abel looked anxiously at Will, who nodded. “ ’Ess, sir. That’s how ’twas.”

“You must not communicate with other persons, Mr. Pomeroy, before giving your answers,” said Dr. Mordant darkly. “And the second round?”

“Ah. I poured it out and left glasses on bar,” said Abel thoughtfully, “Company was fairly lively by then. There was a lot of talk. I reckon each man took his own, second round. Mr. Watchman carried his over to table by dart board.”

“Would you say that at this juncture the men who had taken brandy were sober?”

“Not to say sober, sir, and not to say proper drunk. Bosky-eyed, you might say, ’cepting old George Nark and he was proper soaked. ’Ess, he was drunk as a fish was George Nark.”

Two of the jury men laughed at this and several of the public. The coroner looked about him with an air of extreme distaste and silence set in immediately.

“Is it true,” said the coroner, “that you have been poisoning rats in your garage, Mr. Pomeroy?”

Old Abel turned very white and said, “Yes.”

“What did you use?”

“ ’Twas some stuff from chemist.”

“Yes. Did you purchase it personally?”

“No, sir. It was got for me.”

“By whom?”

“By Mr. Parish, sir. I axed him and he kindly fetched it. I would like to say, sir, that when he give it to me ’twas all sealed up, chemist-fashion.”

“N-n-n-yes. Do you know the nature of this poison?”

“I do believe, sir, it was in the nature of prussic acid. It’s not marked anything but poison.”

“Please tell the jury how you used this substance and when.”

Abel wetted his lips and repeated his story. He had used the rat-poison on Thursday evening, the evening of Watchman’s arrival. He had taken great care and used every precaution. A small vessel had been placed well inside the mouth of the rat-hole and some of the fluid poured into it. The hole was plugged up with rags and the bottle carefully corked. No waste drop of the fluid had escaped. Abel had worn old gloves which he afterwards threw on the fire. He had placed the bottle in a corner cupboard in the inglenook. It had stood alone on the shelf and the label POISON could be seen through the glass door. Everyone in the house was aware of the bottle and its contents.

“We have heard that the iodine was taken from a cupboard in the inglenook. Was this the same cupboard?”

“ ’Ess fay,” said Abel quickly, “but ’twasn’t same shelf, sir. ’Twas in a tin box in another shelf and with a different door, but same piece of furniture.”

“You fetched the iodine?”

“So I did, then, and it was snug and tight in first-aid tin, same as it always is. And, axing your pardon, sir, I used to dab of that same iodine on Bob Legge’s chin only that evening, and there the man is as fit as a flea to bear witness.”

“Quite. Thank you, Mr. Pomeroy. Call Bernard Noggins, chemist, of Illington.”

Mr. Bernard Noggins could have been called nothing else. His eyes watered, his face was pink, his mouth hung open, and he suffered from hay fever. He was elderly and vague, and he obviously went in great terror of the coroner. He was asked if he remembered Mr. Parish’s visit to his shop. He said he did.

“Mr. Parish asked you for a rat-poison?”

“Yes. Yes, he did.”

“What did you supply?”

“I — er — I had no proprietary rat-bane in stock,” began Mr. Noggins miserably, “and no arsenic. So I suggested that the fumes of a cyanide preparation might prove beneficial.”

“Might prove what ?”

“Efficacious. I suggested Scheele’s acid.”

“You sold Mr. Parish Scheele’s acid?”

“Yes. No — I—actually — I diluted — I mean I added — I mean I produced a more concentrated solution by adding HCN. I — er — I supplied a fifty per cent solution. Yes.”

The coroner dropped his pen and gazed at Mr. Noggins, who went on in a great hurry:

“I warned Mr. Parish. He will agree I warned him most carefully and he signed the register — every formality and precaution — most particular. Full instructions. Label.”

The coroner said: “Why did you make this already lethal fluid so much more deadly?”

“Rats,” said Mr. Noggins. “I mean, Mr. Parish said it was for rats, and that Mr. Pomeroy had tried a commercial rat-bane without success. Mr. Parish suggested — suggested — I should—”

“Should what, Mr. Noggins?”

“That I should ginger it up a bit, as he put it.” Mr. Noggins, in the excess of his discomfort, uttered a mad little laugh. The coroner turned upon him a face sickly with disapprobation and told him he might stand down. Dr. Mordant then addressed the jury.

“I think, gentlemen, we have heard enough evidence as to fact and circumstance surrounding this affair and may now listen to the medical evidence. Dr. Shaw, if you please.”

Dr. Shaw swore himself in very briskly and, at the coroner’s invitation, described the body as it was when he first saw it. The coroner’s attitude of morbid introspection increased but he and Dr. Shaw seemed to understand each other pretty well.

“The eyes were wide open and the pupils widely dilated, the jaws tightly clenched…” Dr. Shaw droned on and on. Parish and Cubitt, who had remained in court, both looked rather sick. Legge eyed Dr. Shaw with a sort of mesmerized glare. Will Pomeroy held Decima’s hand, and old Abel stared at his boots. Mr. Nark, who had expected to be called, looked alternately huffy and sheepish. A large, bald man, who looked as if he ought to be in uniform, seemed to prick up his ears. He was Superintendent Harper of the Illington Police Force.

“You have performed an autopsy?” asked the coroner.

“Yes.”

“What did you find?”

“I found the blood much engorged and brilliant in colour. I found nothing unusual in the condition of the stomach. I sent the contents to be analyzed, however, and the report has reached me. Nothing unexpected has been found. I also sent a certain quantity of the blood to be analyzed.”

Dr. Shaw paused.

“N-n-yes?”

“In the case of the sample of blood, the analyst has found definite traces of hydrocyanic acid. These traces point to the presence of at least a grain and a half of the acid in the blood stream.”

“And the fatal dose?”

“One may safely say less than a grain.”

“Did you send the brandy bottle and the iodine bottle, which was found under the bench, to the analyst?”

“Yes.”

“What was the result, Dr. Shaw?”

“The test was negative. The analyst can find no trace of hydrocyanic acid in either bottle.”

“And the dart?”

“The dart was also tested for traces of hydrocyanic acid.” Dr. Shaw looked directly at the coroner and said crisply, “Two tests were used. The first was negative. The second positive. Indications of a very slight trace of hydrocyanic acid were found upon the dart.”

iii

There was only one other witness, a representative of the firm that made the darts. He stated with considerable emphasis that at no stage of their manufacture did they come in contact with any form of cyanide, and that no cyanic preparation was to be found in the entire factory.