Death at Breakfast. John Rhode

died suddenly that morning and that she was going down to stay with Philip. It did not seem to occur to her to mention that the police were already in charge of the matter.

      She gave the envelope to Jimmy, who left the room with it. He found a messenger and handed over the note to him with instructions that it was not to be delivered until three o’clock that afternoon. Then he returned to Janet, who had once more relapsed into silence.

      He was greatly relieved when, shortly before eleven o’clock, he was summoned to Hanslet’s room. The superintendent welcomed him with a grin.

      ‘Well Jimmy, how are you getting on with that charming young woman I sent you?’ he asked.

      ‘Oh, pretty well, so far,’ replied Jimmy cheerfully. ‘She’s not exactly communicative, and I haven’t got any information out of her. Here are the copies of the only two messages she has sent so far.’

      Hanslet looked at these and nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I know something about Philip, but who’s this fellow Mowbray in Lincoln’s Inn?’

      ‘Her lawyer. But I’ve taken steps to see that he doesn’t get that message till this afternoon.’

      Hanslet laughed. ‘You’re a bright lad, Jimmy,’ he said approvingly. ‘I think I’ll go and see this Mr Mowbray before he gets the message. Now, sit down and I’ll tell you what it’s all about.’

      Jimmy listened with interest to his superior’s story. At its conclusion he said nothing for a few moments, then:

      ‘This girl doesn’t look to me like a murderess.’ he exclaimed.

      Hanslet fixed him with a critical eye. ‘If you can tell by inspection whether a woman is a murderess or not, you’ll be a valuable acquisition to the Force,’ he said. ‘There doesn’t seem to be a shadow of doubt about it. They were alone in the house, the poison was found in her room. And yet, Jimmy, my lad, in spite of everything that stares me in the face, I don’t believe she did it.’

      This was a remarkable admission for Hanslet. He seemed to realise this, for he added hastily, ‘Don’t let that go any further, Jimmy. It’s merely the expression of my private opinion. A man would never have left all that damning evidence lying about. But in the case of a woman, you never can tell. She may have lost her head when she saw the effect of the poison upon her brother. Poison is all very well in theory, but it’s a nasty, sticky business in practice. I dare say she didn’t realise the unpleasantness involved. Her first instinct was to run for the doctor, and as soon as he appeared on the scene it was too late for her to do anything to cover her tracks.’

      ‘I wasn’t thinking so much of the evidence as of her state of mind,’ said Jimmy.

      ‘State of mind! What do you know of her state of mind? She’s probably been thinking a hell of a lot since it happened. I feel almost sorry for her, though. It’s a clear case of either murder or suicide. There’s no possibility of death having been accidental. And, if it was murder, she is the only possible culprit.’

      Their conversation was interrupted by the ringing of Hanslet’s telephone bell. The expected Philip Harleston had arrived, and was asking for his sister Janet. Hanslet winked knowingly towards Jimmy.

      ‘Here’s the third party,’ he said. Then turning towards the telephone, ‘All right, bring him in here.’

      It was not long before Philip Harleston appeared. He was a fresh-faced, rather simple looking young man, with a decided likeness to his sister. He seemed rather disconcerted at finding himself at Scotland Yard and shifted nervously from one foot to the other. Hanslet motioned him to a chair.

      ‘Well, Mr Harleston, you know what has happened,’ he said curtly.

      ‘My sister sent me a wire,’ replied Philip in a puzzled voice. ‘I don’t understand it at all. Victor was perfectly well when I last saw him. And that was only yesterday evening.’

      ‘You were on very friendly terms with your half-brother, I expect,’ said Hanslet innocently.

      Philip scratched his head with a peculiar gesture of uncertainty. ‘I don’t know that we were particularly friendly,’ he replied. ‘I didn’t like the way he treated Janet. Of course, he had to provide a home for her, but that was no reason for making her slave for him as he did.’

      ‘Your sister was dependent upon her half-brother?’

      ‘Completely. She had nothing whatever of her own. Now, of course, she’ll be independent.’

      Hanslet glanced triumphantly in Jimmy’s direction. Here was the first hint of motive coming as a gift from Heaven. Victor Harleston had made his sister slave for him. His death made her independent. The reason for the murder became immediately apparent. However, Hanslet did not pursue the subject. He preferred to learn the relations between these three people from an independent source. He seemed at the moment more interested in Philip’s visit to Matfield Street.

      ‘You had supper at your half-brother’s house yesterday evening, did you not?’ he asked.

      ‘Yes, I went there to see Janet and she asked me to stop,’ Philip replied. ‘I had a suggestion to make to her which I knew that Victor would not like. I knew she was a bit run-down and wanted a change. So I suggested to her that she should come and stay with me in the country for a bit.’

      ‘And this suggestion did not meet with your half-brother’s approval?’ Hanslet asked.

      ‘Most decidedly not. In fact, he put his foot on it at once. He said that his bargain with Janet was this. He provided for her and in return she kept house for him. Who was going to do her work while she was away? Was he expected to pay somebody to come in? In fact, Janet’s place was at Matfield Street and she could only leave there with his permission.’

      Hanslet nodded. ‘And you accepted your half-brother’s decision without protest?’ he asked.

      Once more Philip scratched his head. It was evidently a characteristic gesture. ‘Well, I don’t know,’ he replied slowly. ‘I told Victor just what I thought of his behaviour and we had a few words. In the end he told me to get outside the house and stop there. If I liked to take Janet with me, I might. But if she went it would have to be for good. He would wash his hands of her as he would be entitled to.’

      ‘What time was it when you left the house?’ Hanslet asked.

      ‘About nine o’clock. I caught the nine forty-five from Charing Cross.’

      ‘What is your occupation, Mr Harleston?’

      ‘I am the manager of a fruit farm. I have a small cottage and I could easily put Janet up. The trouble is that what I earn would not be enough to keep both of us.’

      ‘I think you said that your half-brother’s death will make your sister independent?’ Hanslet suggested.

      ‘Yes, that’s right,’ Philip replied cheerfully. ‘There’s nothing to prevent Janet coming and living with me now.’

      Hanslet made no reply. He pressed a button upon his desk and a few seconds later a messenger appeared. ‘Will you take Mr Harleston to Inspector Waghorn’s room, please,’ he said. And then, turning to Philip, ‘You’ll find your sister waiting for you there,’ he added.

      Philip left the room in charge of the messenger.

      ‘Well, that’s that,’ said Hanslet. ‘Victor Harleston’s death seems to have come as a godsend to those two young people. I don’t want them hanging about Matfield Street. Run along and talk to them, Jimmy. Persuade Philip Harleston to take his sister away with him. Only, keep your eye on them. And if they show any signs of making a bolt for it, have them detained.’

      It was by now lunch-time, a meal which Hanslet never missed if he could help it. He went out and had his favourite chop and a pint of beer. He then decided to pay a visit to Mr Mowbray. He thought it probable that he would secure some useful information from this quarter.

      Mr Mowbray