Mystery at Olympia. John Rhode

much older than Nahum, had been out in the world when he was still a child playing in his father’s yard. But she knew all about them. Rebecca, the eldest, had married young Bryant, who worked in the office of the local solicitor. A pushing young fellow, was Bryant. He had passed all his examinations, and become a solicitor himself. Then he had gone into partnership in London. The Bryants had an only child, Philip, who had adopted his father’s profession, and was now a partner in the firm of Capes, Bryant and Capes, of Lincoln’s Inn Fields. Rebecca Bryant and her husband had both died many years ago. But Philip was very much alive. It was only the day before that he had spent the afternoon and evening at Firlands.

      Then there was Prudence, or as she was more generally known, Betty Rissington, Mr Pershore’s niece. She was the daughter of his other sister, Naomi. Miss Betty must be told, of course. But, unfortunately, Mrs Markle did not know where to find her. She had been staying at Firlands for the past fortnight, and had only left that very morning. But where she had gone Mrs Markle didn’t know. She was a very independent young lady, was Miss Betty. Liked going about on her own. But perhaps Mr Philip would know where to find her. Or Mr Philip’s wife, though it was Mrs Markle’s private opinion that the two ladies didn’t take to one another much.

      The housekeeper finished her tea, then, after calling in Mrs Rugg to keep an eye on Jessie, went upstairs to the telephone. She called up the office of Messrs Capes, Bryant and Capes, and asked to speak to Mr Philip Bryant upon a personal matter. She was put through and heard Philip’s voice, ‘Well, Mrs Markle, what is it?’

      It seemed to her that there was a tinge of anticipation in his tone, almost as though he expected to hear bad news of his uncle. But she dismissed the idea, as having its sole origin in her fancy. Clearly and concisely she told Philip of Sergeant Draper’s visit to Firlands, and of the news which he had brought.

      So long a pause ensued after she had finished speaking, that she thought she had been cut off. But at last came Philip’s voice again, high-pitched and irresolute. ‘I can’t understand it. My uncle died suddenly? And at the Motor Show? It’s most extraordinary. I must have further details. I’ll go round to Olympia now, at once. I think that will be best. Then I’ll come down to Firlands as soon as I can.’

      ‘Very well, Mr Philip. Excuse me, but do you know where I can find Miss Betty?’

      ‘Betty? Isn’t she staying with you? She was when I was there yesterday.’

      ‘Yes, Mr Philip. But she left this morning. I thought you might know where she was.’

      ‘I’ve no idea. It doesn’t matter. We’ll talk about that when I see you. Good-bye, Mrs Markle.’ And he rang off.

      Meanwhile Doctor Formby and Sergeant Draper had left the house together. ‘You’d better come along to my surgery,’ the doctor had said. ‘I’ll give you a lift in my car. Jump in. You’ll find you’ve got another job in front of you this afternoon, unless I’m greatly mistaken.’

      They drove to the surgery together, where the doctor told Draper to sit down and watch. He produced some chemical apparatus from a cupboard, and into it put some of the contents of the sealed jar, and then some fragments of zinc and acid. The mixture frothed and bubbled, evolving a gas which escaped through a narrow tube. Doctor Formby put his nose to the end of the tube and sniffed. ‘Ah, I thought so!’ he exclaimed. ‘Come here, Draper. Do you smell anything?’

      The sergeant inhaled deeply. ‘Yes, that I do, sir. Smells to me like garlic, same as them Eyetalian chaps do use.’

      Doctor Formby nodded. ‘Smells like it, but it isn’t,’ he said. ‘It’s arsenic.’

      ‘Arsenic, sir,’ exclaimed Draper, hurriedly withdrawing from the vicinity of the apparatus.

      ‘Yes, arsenic. That’s what we call Marsh’s Test. And that smell of garlic that you noticed means that Jessie Twyford has been swallowing arsenic. Fortunately for her, she was very sick, or she would have been a dead woman by now.’

      ‘Why, wherever did she get the stuff from, sir?’

      ‘That nobody seems to know. Perhaps she’ll be able to tell us when she’s feeling a bit better. Now, look here, Draper, it seems to me that there’s something devilish queer going on. Mr Pershore dies suddenly from some unexplained cause, and on the same afternoon his parlourmaid is found suffering from acute arsenical poisoning.’

      A malignant look came into the sergeant’s face. ‘You don’t think, do you, sir …’ he began. But he seemed unable to finish the sentence.

      ‘Think what?’ the doctor asked.

      ‘Why, that there was anything—anything between Mr Pershore and Jessie?’

      ‘That’s a question you can’t possibly expect me to answer. If I were you, I’d get along to the police station and report the facts at once. You can say that I was called to Firlands by Mrs Markle, and found Jessie suffering from arsenical poisoning. That test you have just seen me do was rough, but conclusive. If further tests are required, I’ve plenty more material in this jar, which I’ll seal up in your presence, I consider it most important that these facts should be made known to the coroner who conducts the inquest upon Mr Pershore.’

      ‘Very good, sir,’ replied Sergeant Draper. ‘I’ll see to it at once.’

       CHAPTER III

      It was due to Sergeant Draper’s report, and to the action taken upon it by his superiors, that Philip Bryant found a stranger installed at Firlands upon his arrival there that evening. This stranger, a heavily built man with searching eyes, introduced himself as Superintendent Hanslet, of the Criminal Investigation Department.

      Philip did not seem overjoyed at the presence of the intruder. ‘I assume that your presence here has some connection with my uncle’s death, superintendent?’ he said stiffly.

      ‘Hardly that, Mr Bryant,’ Hanslet replied. ‘I am here to investigate a case of poisoning which has occurred in this house.’

      Mr Pershore’s death seemed already to have had a disturbing effect upon his nephew’s nerves. And the abruptness of this second catastrophe threw him completely off his balance. He took a step backwards, holding out his hands in front of him as though to ward off some unseen danger. ‘Poison!’ he exclaimed, in a queer shrill voice. ‘What do you mean? Who’s been poisoned, and by what? Has there been an escape of gas?’

      ‘Shall we sit down, Mr Bryant?’ replied Hanslet quietly. They were still in the hall, where the superintendent had met Philip upon his arrival. ‘That’s better. I thought perhaps you might have heard. The parlourmaid, Jessie Twyford, has been poisoned by arsenic, and I am endeavouring to trace the source of the poison.’

      Philip’s face became a study in profound bewilderment. ‘By arsenic,’ he exclaimed. ‘What an extraordinary thing. And you don’t know where she got it from?’

      ‘Not yet. But I hope to find out very soon. Doctor Formby is here, and has gone to see whether the girl is in a fit state to be questioned. I expect him back any moment. Ah, here he is.’

      Doctor Formby appeared, with Mrs Markle in attendance. He nodded to Philip, and then addressed Hanslet. ‘We’ve got Jessie up to her own room, where she’ll be more comfortable,’ he said. ‘She’s conscious now, and there won’t be any harm in asking her a few questions. But you’d better leave it to Mrs Markle to do the talking. It may upset her to be questioned by a stranger. Shall we go up?’

      He made a gesture towards the staircase. Mrs Markle led the way; followed by Hanslet and Doctor Formby. Philip was left standing alone in the hall.

      Jessie Twyford was lying in bed, looking rather flustered at being the centre of so much attention. The room was in semi-darkness, and as the three entered it, the two men stayed by the door, where they were invisible to Jessie. Mrs Markle advanced, and sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘Well,