Death at Breakfast. John Rhode

to look as much as you please,’ he replied. ‘And if you can find that infernal towel, I’ll stand you an expensive drink. Here you are, take the keys.’

      Jimmy let himself into the house and went upstairs to the bathroom. He tried to imagine how and where he would stand if he were about to shave himself. In front of the wash-basin, of course. There was a mirror conveniently fixed to the wall behind it. He would stand so, facing the mirror, and the light from the window would fall upon his face.

      The window!

      Jimmy stiffened suddenly. The various uses of a window had not occurred to him until this moment. Primarily, no doubt, windows were intended to admit light. But they had another use as well. They could be opened for the admission of air. And, once opened, things could be thrown out of them.

      Jimmy went to the window, which was of the ordinary sash type. It opened readily enough at his touch. He put out his head. Beneath him was the untended plot of garden, completely overgrown with weeds and coarse rank grass.

      Perhaps he had half-expected to find the missing towel there. But there was no sign of anything of the kind. A towel thrown out of the window would lie on the surface and not bury itself under the grass. But anything heavier would be hidden in the tangle. Jimmy decided that it might be worth while to go outside and look.

      The only way into the garden was through a door in the basement and up a short flight of stone steps. This door was bolted and locked, but the key was on the inside. Jimmy tried the bolts and had difficulty in forcing them back. The key, again, turned rustily in its lock. It was evident that this door had not been opened for some considerable time. A quantity of rubbish had collected behind it and Jimmy had some difficulty in forcing it open. However, he succeeded at last, passed through the doorway, and up the crumbling steps.

      Once in the garden he placed himself beneath the bathroom window. From this point he began his search. He examined the rough and tangled grass foot by foot. But he found nothing until he was nearly half-way across the garden. And then, about a dozen yards from the bathroom window he caught sight of a square brown object. He picked it up. It was a leather case, empty and bearing the word ‘Novoshave’ embossed in gold upon its lid.

      The case was practically new, and had obviously not been lying out in the open for long. The letter from Novoshave to Harleston had mentioned a razor in a case. This undoubtedly was the case. But why, in the name of all that was wonderful, had it been thrown out of the window? And where was the razor which it had contained?

      Perhaps the razor had followed the case in its inexplicable flight. Jimmy continued his search. Again he quartered the grass for some time without results. Then, almost at the farther end of the garden he caught a gleam of metal. This was the missing razor. The spot where it lay was nearly twenty yards from the house. It must have been flung out of the window with some considerable violence.

      Very carefully Jimmy picked up the razor and carried it and the case into the house. Then, methodically, he searched the remainder of the garden, but no further discoveries rewarded him. He returned to the house, carefully shutting and locking the door leading to the garden. Then he proceeded to examine the razor. It appeared to be quite new. Nor could it have lain long in the garden, for the blade was free from rust. It bore the word ‘Novoshave’ and the trade mark of the firm. And it had evidently been used. The edge of the blade was clogged with a small quantity of thick brownish substance of the consistency of soft soap. And on the chromium-plated frame was a stain which Jimmy recognised as that of blood.

      It was not long before Jimmy’s imagination supplied him with a theory to account for what had happened. Harleston had decided to experiment with this new razor. Unfortunately, probably owing to some clumsiness on his part, he had cut himself at the first stroke. Impetuously, he had flung the razor out of the window and the case after it. He had finished his shave with the Gillette with which he was familiar. But that did not account for the disappearance of the towel. What in the world could he have done with that?

      However, this find was sufficient for the moment, Jimmy carefully wrapped up the razor and case, and took them back to Scotland Yard, where he showed them to Hanslet. The superintendent was puzzled, but at the same time impressed.

      ‘You seem pretty successful at finding things, Jimmy,’ he said. ‘What do you suggest doing with these?’

      ‘I’d like to know what that brown stuff on the razor is,’ Jimmy replied. ‘How would it be to send this little lot to Dr Grantham and the Home Office for analysis?’

      Hanslet agreed to this suggestion, which Jimmy immediately carried out. He then returned to his own room. The question uppermost in his mind was this. How did the discovery of the razor affect, if at all, the theory of Janet Harleston’s guilt?

      He was quite ready to admit to himself that the girl interested him. Hanslet himself had doubts of her guilt. If she were a murderess, Jimmy thought, she was at the same time a superlative actress. At the inquest she had shown no signs of nervousness. She had managed to convey the impression that her half-brother’s death was as great a mystery to her as to anybody else. And she had seemed considerably brighter than when Jimmy had seen her first. Of course, she had secured her independence and that might account for it. But if she had murdered her brother, would not her relief have been tempered by some fears for her own safety?

      And yet it seemed extremely difficult to establish a theory which would account for her innocence. It occurred to Jimmy that she might have been the unconscious tool of Philip, but somehow the idea did not ring true. From what he had seen of the two, Jimmy had come to the conclusion that Janet had far more intelligence and initiative than her brother. In fact, Philip had struck him as a rather simple-minded individual. He might have had the will to commit a murder, but surely not the ability. And this, if it were indeed a murder, showed signs of ingenuity of a very high order.

      It seemed that the superintendent’s mind must have been running in a very similar channel. He called up Jimmy and asked him to come round to his room.

      ‘Sit down,’ he said, ‘and listen to me. This case has got to be investigated very thoroughly, and it’s a job that will take two of us. I’ve seen the Assistant Commissioner and he agrees that you shall help me. Now, I’m going to Lassingford first thing tomorrow morning. I want to make a few inquiries there. The reports of analysis will probably come in while I’m away. Look through them and see if they throw any fresh light upon the affair. And you’d better keep the key of that house in Matfield Street in case you want to make any further explorations.’

      6

      On the following morning, which was Wednesday, Jimmy went to Hanslet’s room as soon as he arrived at the Yard. There he found the report from the Home Office analyst. This dealt with the various objects that had been submitted.

      The first paragraph of the report dealt with the contents of the teapot found in Harleston’s bedroom. This had been found to be an infusion of tea, heavily impregnated with nicotine. From the fact that the liquid was more greatly contaminated than the leaves, it seemed probable that the poison had been added after the tea was made. Next came the dregs of tea found in Harleston’s cup. These also contained a percentage of nicotine. But in the latter case the proportion was higher than in the case of the tea in the pot. The analyst made the suggestion that further nicotine might have been added to the cup after the tea had been poured out.

      The next article to be dealt with was the eau-de-Cologne found in Janet’s bedroom.

      This bottle contained a mixture of two liquids. The first was the cheaper type of eau-de-Cologne in which the solvent employed had been propyl alcohol. The second was nicotine which was present to the extent of rather over ten per cent. This percentage was rather greater than in the case of the tea.

      The report then dealt with the coffee found in the dining-room. Neither the liquid in the pot nor the few drops remaining in Harleston’s cup contained any trace of nicotine.

      The contents of the stomach were then reported upon at length. Only a very slight trace of nicotine had been discovered here. This was consistent with the view that the nicotine had not been swallowed but absorbed through the skin. The nature of the