May 15, 2025 • 27 mins
Penned by Alfred Walter Stewart under the pseudonym J.J. Connington, Case With Nine Solutions introduces us to the astute and highly regarded police professional, Sir Clinton Driffield. Thrust into a tangled web of murder, Driffield and his loyal sidekick, Inspector Flamborough, must sift through nine possible scenarios to uncover the truth. This complex case brings a beguiling temptress, her unsuspecting husband, a clandestine admirer, and a smitten young man into the mix. As the pair delve deeper into the mystery, they navigate a labyrinth of scientific evidence, cryptic messages, and rely on their sharp deductive reasoning skills to solve the murder.
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter ten of the Case with nine Solutions by J. J. Connington.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Information received.
For the next day or two, Sir Clinton's interest in
the Hassendine case appeared to have faded out, and Inspector Flamborough,
after following up one or two clues which eventually proved useless,
(00:24):
was beginning to feel perturbed by the lack of direct
progress which the investigation showed. Rather to his relief, one morning,
the Chief Constable summoned him to his office. Flamborough began
a somewhat apologetic account of his fruitless investigations, but Sir
Clinton cut him short with a word or two of
appreciation of his zeal. Here's something more definite for you
(00:47):
to go on, he suggested. I've just had a preliminary
report from the London man whom we put on to
search for the poison. I asked him to let me
have a private opinion at the earliest possible moment. His
official report will come in later. Of course, has he
spotted it, sir, the inspector inquired eagerly. He's reached the
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same conclusion as I did, and as I suppose you did.
Also Sir Clinton assured him. Flamborough looked puzzled. I didn't
spot it myself, he confessed, deffinitely. In fact, I don't
see how there was anything to show definitely what stuff
it was borring dilation of the eye pupils, and that
might have been due to various drugs. You should never
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lose an opportunity of exercising your powers of inference, Inspector,
I mustn't rob you of this one. Now. Put together
two things, the episode of the mixed melting point and
the phrase about his triumph that young Hassendeen wrote in
his journal. Add the state of the girl's pupils as
a third point, and there you are. Flamborough pondered for
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a while over this assortment of information, but finally shook
his head. I don't see it yet, sir. In that case,
Sir Clinton declared, with the air of one bestowing benevolence,
I think we'd better let it down on you slowly.
You might be angry with yourself if he realized all
of a sudden how simple it is. He rose to
his feet as he spoke. I think we'll pay a
(02:15):
visit to the Croft Thornton Institute now and see how
Markfield has been getting along with his examination. We may
as well have a check before we begin to speculate
too freely. They found Markfield in his laboratory, and Sir
Clinton came to business at once. We came over to
see how you were getting on with that poison business, doctor, Markfield.
(02:36):
Can you give us any news? Markfield indicated a notebook
on his desk. I've got it out. I think it's
all there, but I haven't had time to write a
proper report on it yet. It was I ha seen,
Sir Clinton interrupted. Markfield stared at him with evident appreciation.
You're quite right, he confirmed, with some surprise. I suppose
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you've got private information. The Chief Constable evaded the point.
I'm asking this question only for our own information. You
won't be asked to swear to it in court. What
amount of hiocene do you think was in the body altogether?
I mean, judging from the results you obtain yourself. Markfield
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considered for a moment, I'm giving you a guess, but
I think it's fairly near the mark. I wouldn't, of
course take my oath on it, but the very smallest quantity,
judging from my results, would be somewhere in the neighborhood
of seven or eight milligrams. Have you looked up anything
about this stuff? Maximum dose and so forth? Sir Clinton inquired.
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The maximum dose of hyacine hydrobromite is down in the
books as six tenths of a milligram. How about a
hundredth of a grain in apothecary's weights. Then she must
have swallowed ten or twelve times the maximum dose, a
Clinton calculated after a moment or two of mental arithmetic.
He paused for a space, then turned again to Markfield.
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I'd like to see the highest seat in your store here,
if you can lay your hands on it easily. Markfield
made no objection. If you'd come in yesterday, the bottle
would have been here beside me. I've taken it back
to the shelf. Now, I suppose you boored it to
do a mixed melting point, Sir Clinton asked, yes, when
there's only a trace of a stuff to identify, it's
(04:25):
the easiest method. But you seem to know something about chemistry,
about enough to make mistakes with. I'm afraid it simply
happened that some one described the mixed melting point business
to me once and it stuck in my mind. Now,
suppose we look at this store of yours. Markfield led
them along a passage and threw open a door at
the end. In here, he said, you don't keep it locked,
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Sir Clinton inquired casually as he passed in, followed by
the inspector. No. Markfield answered, in some surprise, it's the
general chemical store for this department. There's no point in
keeping it locked. All our stuffs are here, and it
would be a devilish nuisance if one had to fish
out a key every time one wanted some chloroform or
benz heene. We keep the duty free alcohol locked up.
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Of course, that's necessary under the customs regulations. Sir Clinton
readily agreed. You're all trustworthy people. Naturally, he admitted, it's
not like a place where you have junior students about
who might play thoughtless tricks. Markfield went over to one
of the cases which lined the room, searched along a shelf,
and took down a tiny bottle. Here's the stuff, he explained,
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holding it out to the Chief Constable. That's the hydrobromide,
of course, assault of the alkaloid itself. This is the
compound that's used in medicine. Now that he had got it,
Sir Clinton seemed to have little interest in the substance.
He handed it across the Flamborough, who, after looking at
it with would be sagacity, returned it to Markfield. There's
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just one other point that occurs to me that you've constable, explained,
as Markfield returned the poison bottle to its original place,
Have you, by any chance got an old notebook belonging
to young Hassendein on the premises anything of the sort
would do? The inspector could make nothing of this demand,
and his face betrayed as perplexity as he considered it.
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Markfield thought for a few moments before replying, evidently trying
to recall the existence of any article which would suit
Sir Clinton's purpose. I think I've got a rough notebook
of his somewhere in my room, he said at last.
But it's only a record of weighings and things like that.
Would it do the very thing? Sir Clinton declared gratefully,
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I'd be much obliged if you could lay your hands
on it for me. Now. I hope it isn't troubling
you too much. It was evident from Markfield's expression that
he was as much puzzled as the inspector and his
curiosity seemed to quicken his steps. On the way back
to his room. After a few minutes hunting, he unearthed
the notebook of which he was in search, and aided
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on the table before Sir Clinton. Flamborough, familiar with young
Hassendine's writing, had no difficulty in seeing that the notes
were in the dead man's hand. Sir Clinton turned over
the leaves idly, examining an entry here and there. The
last one seemed to satisfy him, and he put an
end to his inspection. Flamborough bent over the table and
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was mystified to find only the following entry on the
exposed leaf. Weight of potash bulb equals fifty point seven
seven eight nine grains. Weight of potash bulb plus CO
two equals fifty point nine eight two five grains. Underline
weight of CO two equals zero point two zero four
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six grains. By the way, says Sir Clinton, casually, do
you happen to have one of your own notebooks at hand,
something with the same sort of thing in them? Markfield,
obviously puzzled, went over to redrawer and pulled out a notebook,
which he passed to the Chief Constable. Again. Sir Clinton
skimmed over the pages, apparently at random, and then left
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the second book open beside the first one. Flamborough, determined
to miss nothing, examine the exposed page in Markfield's notebook,
and was rewarded by this. Weight of U dash tube
equals twenty four point seven seven nine two grams. Weight
of U dash two plus H two O equals twenty
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four point nine zero four seven grams underline weight of
H two oh equals zero point one two five five grams.
Damned if I see what he's driving at, the inspector
said savagely to himself, it's Greek to me, a careless
young fellow, The Chief Constable pronounced acidly. My eye caught
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three blunders and plain arithmetic as I glanced through these notes.
There's one on this page here, he indicated the open book.
He seems to have been a very slap down sort
of person. An unreliable young hound was Markfield's slightly intensified description.
It was pure influence that kept him here for more
than a week. Old Thornton, who put up most of
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the money for building this place was interested in him,
knew his father, I think, and so we had to
keep the young pup here for fear of rasping Old
Thornton's feelings. Otherwise, the gesture accompanying the opposyoposis expressed Markfield's
idea of the fate, which would at once have befallen
young Hassendeen had his protector's influence been withdrawn. The Chief
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Constable appeared enlightened by this fresh information. I couldn't imagine
how you came to let him have the run of
the place for so long, he confessed. But of course,
as things were, it was evidently cheaper to keep him,
even if he did no useful work. One can't afford
to alienate one's benefactors. After a pause, he continued, reverting,
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apparently to an earlier line of thought. Let's see, you
made out that something like twelve times the normal dose
of high seine had been administered. Markfield nodded his assent,
but qualified it in words, that's a rough figure. Remember,
of course, Sir Clinton agreed. As a matter of fact,
the multiple I had in my mind was fifteen. I
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suppose it's quite possible that some of the stuff escaped you,
and that your figure is an underestimate. Quite likely, Markfield admitted, frankly,
I gave you the lowest figure, naturally, a figure I
could swear to if it came to the point. As
this a legal case, it's safer to be under than
over the mark. But quite probably, as you say, I
(10:39):
didn't manage to isolate all the stuff that was really present,
and I wouldn't deny that the quantity in the body
may have run up to ten milligrams or even slightly
over it. Well, it's perhaps hardly worth bothering about, the
Chief Constable concluded. The main thing is that even at
the lowest estimate, she must have swallowed enough of the
poison to kill her in a reasonably short time. With this,
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he seemed satisfied, and after a few questions about the
preparation and submission of Markfield's official report, he took his leave.
As he turned away, however, a fresh thought seemed to
strike him by the way, Doctor Markfield, do you know
if miss Hailsham's here this morning? I believe so, Markfield answered,
I saw her as I came in. I'd like to
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have a few words with her. Sir Clinton, suggested. Officially,
Markfield demanded, you're not going to worry the girl, are you?
If it's anything I can tell you about, I'm the
only too glad. You know it's not very nice for
a girl to have the tale going round that she's
been hauled in by the police in a murder case.
The Chief Constable conceded the point without ado. Then perhaps
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you could send for her and we could speak to
her in here. It would be more private and there
need be no talk about it outside. Very well, Markfield
acquiesced at once. I think that would be better. I'll
send for her now. He rang a bell and despatched
a boy with a message. In a few minutes to
tap on the door sounded, and Markfield ushered norma hailsham
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into the room. Inspector Flamborough glanced at her with interest
to see how far his conception of her personality agreed
with reality. She was a girl apparently between twenty and
twenty five, dressed with scrupulous neatness. Quite obviously, she spent
money freely on her clothes and knew how to get
value for what she spent. But as his eyes traveled
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up to her face, the inspector received a more vivid impression.
Her features were striking rather than handsome, and Flamborough noted
especially the squarish chin in the long, thin lipped, flexible mouth. Hum.
He commented to himself, she might flash up in a moment,
but with that jaw on those lips, she wouldn't cool
down again in a hurry. I was right when I
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put her down as a vindictive type. Shouldn't much care
to have trouble with her myself. He glanced at Sir
Clinton for tacit instructions, But apparently the Chief Constable proposed
to take charge of the interview. Would you sit down,
miss Hailsham, Sir Clinton suggested, drawing forward a chair for
the girl. Flamborough noticed with professional interest that, by his
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apparently casual courtesy, the Chief Constable had unobtrusively maneuvered the
girl into a position in which her face was clearly
illuminated by the light from the window. This is, Inspector Flamborough.
Sir Clinton went on with a gesture of introduction. We
should like to ask you one or two questions about
an awkward case we have in our hands, the Hassendeine business.
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I'm afraid it will be painful for you, but I
am sure you'll give us what help you can. Norma
Hailsham's thin lips set in a hard line at his
first words, but the movement was apparently involuntary, for she
relaxed them again as Sir Clinton finished his remarks. I
shall be glad to give you any help I can,
she said in a level voice. Flamborough, studying her expression,
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notice a swift shift of her glance from one to
the other of the three men before her. She's a
bit over self conscious, he judged privately. But she's the
regular lookmonger type anyhow, and quite likely she makes play
with her eyes when she's talking to any man. Sir
Clinton seemed to be making a merit of frankness. I
really haven't any definite questions I want to ask you,
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miss Hailsham, he confessed. What we hoped was that you
might have something to tell us which indirectly might throw
some light on this affair. You see, we come into
it without knowing anything about the people involved, and naturally
any trifle may help us. Now, if I'm not mistaken,
you knew mister Hassendeen fairly well. I was engaged to
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him at one time, he broke off the engagement for
various reasons. That's common knowledge, I believe. Could you give
us any of the reasons. I don't wish to pray
you understand, but I think it's an important point. Miss
Hailsham's face showed that he had touched a sore place.
He threw me over for another woman, brutally, missus Silverdale.
(15:04):
Sir Clinton inquired, yes, that creature. Ah. Now, I'd like
to put a blunt question. Was your engagement while it
lasted a happy one? I mean, of course, before he
was attracted to missus Silverdale. Norma Hailsham sat with knitted
brows for a few moments before answering. That's difficult to answer,
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she pointed out. At last. I must confess that I
always felt he was thinking more of himself than of me,
and it was a disappointment. But you see, I was
very keen on him, and that made a difference. Of course,
what led to the breaking of your engagement? You mean,
what led up to it? Well, we were having continual
friction over Yvon Silverdale. He was neglecting me and spending
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his time with her. Naturally, I spoke to him about
it more than once. I wasn't going to be slighter
than account of that woman. There was no mistaking the
undercurrent of animal amosity in the girl's voice. In the
last sentence, Sir Clinton ignored it. What were your ideas
about the relations between mister Hassendein and missus Silverdale. Miss
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Hailsham's thin lips curled in an undisguised contempt as she
heard the question. She made a gesture as though averting
herself from something distasteful. It's hardly necessary to enter into that,
is it, she demanded. You can judge for yourself. But
though she verbally evaded the point, the tone in which
she spoke was sufficient to betray her private views on
(16:32):
the subject. Then, with intense bitterness mingled with a certain
malicious joy, she added, she got what she deserved in
the end, I don't pretend I'm sorry. I think they
were both well served. Then her temper, which hitherto had
kept under control, broke from restraint. I don't care who
knows it. They deserved all they got, both of them.
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What business had she with a husband of her own
to come and lure him away? She made him break
off his engagement to me simply to gratify her own vanity.
You don't expect me to shed tears over them after that.
One can forgive a good deal, but there's no use
making a pretense and things like that. She hit me
as hard as she could, and I'm glad she's got
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her desserts. I warned him at the time that he
wouldn't come off so well as he thought, and he
laughed in my face when I said it, Well, it's
my turn to laugh. The account's even, and she actually
did laugh, with a catch of hysteria and the laughter.
It needed no great skill in psychology to see that
wounded pride shared with disappointed passion in causing this outbreak.
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Sir Clinton checked the hysteria before it gained a complete
hold over her. I am afraid you haven't told us
anything that was new to us, Miss Hailsham, he said, frigidly.
This melodramatic business gets us no further forward. The girl
looked at him with hard eyes. What help do you
expect from me, she demanded. I'm not anxious to see
him avenged. Far from it. Sir Clinton evidently realized that
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nothing was to be gained by pursuing that line of inquiry,
whether the girl had any suspicions or not, she certainly
did not intend to supply information which might lead to
the capture of the murderer. The Chief Constable waited until
she had become calmer before putting his next question. Do
you happen to know anything about an alkaloid called hyacine?
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Miss Hailsham hyacine? She repeated, yes, Aves Deep cars working
on it just now. She's been at it for some
time under doctor Silverdale's direction. Flamborough, glancing surreptitiously at Markfield,
noted an angry start, which the chemist apparently could not suppress.
Put on the alert. By this, the inspector reflected that
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Markfield himself must have had this piece of information and
had refrained from volunteering it. I meant as regards its property,
Sir Clinton interposed, I'm not an expert in these things
like you chemical people. I'm not an alkaloid expert. Miss
Hailsham objected. All I can remember about it is that
it's used in Twilight's Sleep. I believe it is now
(19:08):
that you mention it. Sir Clinton agreed politely. By the way,
have you a car, Miss Hailsham. Yes, a Morris Oxford
for Cedar, A saloon, No, a touring model. Why do
you ask some one's been asking for information about a
car which seems to have knocked a man over on
the night of the last fog. You weren't out that night,
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I suppose, miss Hailsham. I was, as it happened. I
went out to a dance, but i'd a sore throat
and the fog made it worse. So I came away
very early and got home as best I could. But
it wasn't my car that knocked anyone down. I never
had an accident in my life. You might have been
excusing that fog, I think, even if you had a collision.
(19:51):
But evidently it's not your car. We're after. What was
the number of the car we heard about? Inspector Flamborough
consulted his note book. G X nine O seven four.
Sir say that again, Markfield demanded, pricking up his ears.
G X nine O seven four was the number. That's
the number of my car, Markfield volunteered. He thought for
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some time, apparently trying to retrace his experiences in the fog.
At last his face lighted up. Oh I guess I
know what it is. When I was piloting Doctor Ringwood
that night, a fellow nearly walked straight into my front
mud guard. I may have hurt his feelings by what
I said about his brains, but I swear I didn't
touch him with the car. Not our affair, Sir Clinton
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hastened to assure him, it's a matter for your insurance
company if anything comes of it. And I gathered from
Doctor Ringwood that you didn't exactly break records in your
trip across town, so I doubt if you need worry,
I sha'n't, said Markfield Crossly. You can refer him to
me if he comes to you again. We'd nothing to
do with the matter, Sir Clinton pointed out he was
(20:58):
told he'd get the owner's addressed from the county council.
I expect he got into a calmer frame of mind
when he'd had time to think. He turned to Miss Hailsham,
who seemed to have recovered complete control over herself during
this interlude. I think that's all we need worry you with,
Miss Hailsham. I'm sorry that we put you to so
much trouble. As a sign that the interview was at
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an end, he moved over to open the door for her.
I certainly don't wish you success, she said icily as
she left the room. Well, I think that's all we
have to do here, Inspector, Sir Clinton said, as he
turned back from the open door. We mustn't take up
any more of doctor Markfield's time. I don't want to
hurry you too much, he added to Markfield. But you'll
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let us have your official report as soon as you can,
won't you? Markfield promised with a nod, and the two
officials left the building. When they reached headquarters again, Sir
Clinton led the way to his own office. Sit down
for a moment or two, Inspector, he invited, you may
as well glance over the London Man's report when you
about it here. It is not for actual use, of course,
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until we get the official version from him. He passed
over a paper which Flamborough unfolded by the way. Sir
the Inspector inquired, before beginning to read, is there any
reason for keeping back this information? These infernal reporters are
all over me for details. And if this poison affair
could be published without doing any harm, I might as
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well dole it out to them to keep them quiet.
They haven't had much from me in the last twenty
four hours, and it's better to give them what we can.
Sir Clinton seemed to attach some importance to this matter,
for he considered it for a few seconds before replying,
let them have the name of the stuff. He directed
at last, I don't think i'd supply them with any details,
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though I'm quite satisfied about the name of the drug.
But the dose is still more or less a matter
of opinion, and we better not say anything about that.
Flamborough glanced up from the report in his hand. Markfield
and the London man both seemed to put the dose
round about the same figure, eight milligrams. He said, both
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of them must be super sharp workers. Sir Clinton pointed out,
I don't profess to be a chemist inspector, but I
know enough about things to realize that they've done a
bit of a feat there. However, let's go out to
something more immediately interesting. What did you make of the
Hailshung girl? What did I make of her? Flamborough repeated,
in order to gain a little time, I thought you
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was more or less what i'd expected her to be.
Sir a hard vix em with a good opinion of herself,
and simply mad with rage at being jilted. That's what
I made of her. Revengeful too, and a bit vulgar, Sir.
No decent girl would talk like that about a dead
man to a set of strangers. She hadn't much to
tell us. That was useful, Sir Clinton said, keeping to
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the main point, and I quite agree with you as
to the general tone. Flamborough turned to a matter which
had puzzled him during their visit to the institute. What
did you want young Hassendean's notebook for, Sir? I didn't
quite make that out. Why you saw what I got
out of it? Arithmetical errors would prove conclusively that he
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was a careless worker who didn't take any trouble at
all to verify his results. I had a kind of
notion that you got more out of it than that, sir,
or you wouldn't have asked to see Markville's notebook as well.
It doesn't take some one else's noteook to spot's lips
in a man's arithmetic. Surely, Sir Clinton gazed blandly at
his subordinate. Now that you've got that length it would
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be a pity to spoil your pleasure in the rest
of the inference. Just think it out and tell me
the result to see if we both reach the same conclusion. Independently,
you'll find O weights and measures conversion table. Useful conversion table,
Sir asked the inspector, evidently quite at sea. Yes, one
meter equals thirty nine point three seven inches and all
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that sort of thing, the sort of stuff one used school.
You know, too deep for me, sir. The inspector acknowledged ruefully.
You need to tell me the answer, and that reminds
me what made you ask whether the dose could have
been fifteen times the maximum. The Chief Constable was just
about to take pity on his subordinate when the desk
telephone rang sharply. Sir Clinton picked up the receiver. Yes,
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Inspector Flamborough is here. He handed the receiver across to
the inspector, who conducted a disjointed conversation with the person
at the other end of the wire. At length. Flamborough
put down the instrument and turned to Sir Clinton with
an expression of satisfaction on his face. We're on to something, sir.
That was fossowah ringing up from Fountain Street. It seems
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a man called there a few minutes ago and began
fishing round to know if there was any likelihood of
a reward being offered in connection with the bungalow case.
He seemed as if he might know something, and they
handed him over to Detective Sergeant Fossaway to see what
he could make of him. Fossowat is fairly satisfied that
there's something behind it, though he could extract nothing whatever
from the fellow in the way of definite statements. Has
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fossiway got him there? Still, no, sir, he'd no power
to detain him, of course, and the fellow turned stubborn
in the end and went off without saying anything definite.
I hope they haven't lost him. Oh, no, sir, they
know him quite well. What sort of person is he? Then?
A nasty tight, sir. He keeps one of these little
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low down shops where you can buy a lot of
queer things. Once we nearly had him over the sale
of some post cards, but he was too clever for
us at the last moment. Then he was up in
an assault case. He'd been wandering round the park after dark,
disturbing couples with a flash lamp. A thoroughly low down
little creature. His name's Wally. Sir Clinton's face showed very
(26:50):
plainly his view of the activities of mister Wally. Well,
so long as they can lay their hands on him
any time we need him, it's all right. I think
we'll persuade him to talk. By the way, was this
lamp flashing stunt of his done for esthetic enjoyment or
was he doing a bit of blackmailing on the quiet? Well,
nobody actually lodged a complaint against him, but there's no
(27:12):
saying whether people paid him or not. His record doesn't
make it improbable that he might do something in that line.
If he could manage to pull it off, then I'll
leave mister Waldy to your care, inspector. He sounds interesting
if you can induce him to squeak. And of chapter ten,
Chapter ten of the Case with nine Solutions by J. J. Connington.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Information received.
For the next day or two, Sir Clinton's interest in
the Hassendine case appeared to have faded out, and Inspector Flamborough,
after following up one or two clues which eventually proved useless,
(00:24):
was beginning to feel perturbed by the lack of direct
progress which the investigation showed. Rather to his relief, one morning,
the Chief Constable summoned him to his office. Flamborough began
a somewhat apologetic account of his fruitless investigations, but Sir
Clinton cut him short with a word or two of
appreciation of his zeal. Here's something more definite for you
(00:47):
to go on, he suggested. I've just had a preliminary
report from the London man whom we put on to
search for the poison. I asked him to let me
have a private opinion at the earliest possible moment. His
official report will come in later. Of course, has he
spotted it, sir, the inspector inquired eagerly. He's reached the
(01:08):
same conclusion as I did, and as I suppose you did.
Also Sir Clinton assured him. Flamborough looked puzzled. I didn't
spot it myself, he confessed, deffinitely. In fact, I don't
see how there was anything to show definitely what stuff
it was borring dilation of the eye pupils, and that
might have been due to various drugs. You should never
(01:30):
lose an opportunity of exercising your powers of inference, Inspector,
I mustn't rob you of this one. Now. Put together
two things, the episode of the mixed melting point and
the phrase about his triumph that young Hassendeen wrote in
his journal. Add the state of the girl's pupils as
a third point, and there you are. Flamborough pondered for
(01:52):
a while over this assortment of information, but finally shook
his head. I don't see it yet, sir. In that case,
Sir Clinton declared, with the air of one bestowing benevolence,
I think we'd better let it down on you slowly.
You might be angry with yourself if he realized all
of a sudden how simple it is. He rose to
his feet as he spoke. I think we'll pay a
(02:15):
visit to the Croft Thornton Institute now and see how
Markfield has been getting along with his examination. We may
as well have a check before we begin to speculate
too freely. They found Markfield in his laboratory, and Sir
Clinton came to business at once. We came over to
see how you were getting on with that poison business, doctor, Markfield.
(02:36):
Can you give us any news? Markfield indicated a notebook
on his desk. I've got it out. I think it's
all there, but I haven't had time to write a
proper report on it yet. It was I ha seen,
Sir Clinton interrupted. Markfield stared at him with evident appreciation.
You're quite right, he confirmed, with some surprise. I suppose
(02:59):
you've got private information. The Chief Constable evaded the point.
I'm asking this question only for our own information. You
won't be asked to swear to it in court. What
amount of hiocene do you think was in the body altogether?
I mean, judging from the results you obtain yourself. Markfield
(03:19):
considered for a moment, I'm giving you a guess, but
I think it's fairly near the mark. I wouldn't, of
course take my oath on it, but the very smallest quantity,
judging from my results, would be somewhere in the neighborhood
of seven or eight milligrams. Have you looked up anything
about this stuff? Maximum dose and so forth? Sir Clinton inquired.
(03:42):
The maximum dose of hyacine hydrobromite is down in the
books as six tenths of a milligram. How about a
hundredth of a grain in apothecary's weights. Then she must
have swallowed ten or twelve times the maximum dose, a
Clinton calculated after a moment or two of mental arithmetic.
He paused for a space, then turned again to Markfield.
(04:04):
I'd like to see the highest seat in your store here,
if you can lay your hands on it easily. Markfield
made no objection. If you'd come in yesterday, the bottle
would have been here beside me. I've taken it back
to the shelf. Now, I suppose you boored it to
do a mixed melting point, Sir Clinton asked, yes, when
there's only a trace of a stuff to identify, it's
(04:25):
the easiest method. But you seem to know something about chemistry,
about enough to make mistakes with. I'm afraid it simply
happened that some one described the mixed melting point business
to me once and it stuck in my mind. Now,
suppose we look at this store of yours. Markfield led
them along a passage and threw open a door at
the end. In here, he said, you don't keep it locked,
(04:49):
Sir Clinton inquired casually as he passed in, followed by
the inspector. No. Markfield answered, in some surprise, it's the
general chemical store for this department. There's no point in
keeping it locked. All our stuffs are here, and it
would be a devilish nuisance if one had to fish
out a key every time one wanted some chloroform or
benz heene. We keep the duty free alcohol locked up.
(05:12):
Of course, that's necessary under the customs regulations. Sir Clinton
readily agreed. You're all trustworthy people. Naturally, he admitted, it's
not like a place where you have junior students about
who might play thoughtless tricks. Markfield went over to one
of the cases which lined the room, searched along a shelf,
and took down a tiny bottle. Here's the stuff, he explained,
(05:36):
holding it out to the Chief Constable. That's the hydrobromide,
of course, assault of the alkaloid itself. This is the
compound that's used in medicine. Now that he had got it,
Sir Clinton seemed to have little interest in the substance.
He handed it across the Flamborough, who, after looking at
it with would be sagacity, returned it to Markfield. There's
(05:58):
just one other point that occurs to me that you've constable, explained,
as Markfield returned the poison bottle to its original place,
Have you, by any chance got an old notebook belonging
to young Hassendein on the premises anything of the sort
would do? The inspector could make nothing of this demand,
and his face betrayed as perplexity as he considered it.
(06:19):
Markfield thought for a few moments before replying, evidently trying
to recall the existence of any article which would suit
Sir Clinton's purpose. I think I've got a rough notebook
of his somewhere in my room, he said at last.
But it's only a record of weighings and things like that.
Would it do the very thing? Sir Clinton declared gratefully,
(06:39):
I'd be much obliged if you could lay your hands
on it for me. Now. I hope it isn't troubling
you too much. It was evident from Markfield's expression that
he was as much puzzled as the inspector and his
curiosity seemed to quicken his steps. On the way back
to his room. After a few minutes hunting, he unearthed
the notebook of which he was in search, and aided
(07:00):
on the table before Sir Clinton. Flamborough, familiar with young
Hassendine's writing, had no difficulty in seeing that the notes
were in the dead man's hand. Sir Clinton turned over
the leaves idly, examining an entry here and there. The
last one seemed to satisfy him, and he put an
end to his inspection. Flamborough bent over the table and
(07:21):
was mystified to find only the following entry on the
exposed leaf. Weight of potash bulb equals fifty point seven
seven eight nine grains. Weight of potash bulb plus CO
two equals fifty point nine eight two five grains. Underline
weight of CO two equals zero point two zero four
(07:44):
six grains. By the way, says Sir Clinton, casually, do
you happen to have one of your own notebooks at hand,
something with the same sort of thing in them? Markfield,
obviously puzzled, went over to redrawer and pulled out a notebook,
which he passed to the Chief Constable. Again. Sir Clinton
skimmed over the pages, apparently at random, and then left
(08:06):
the second book open beside the first one. Flamborough, determined
to miss nothing, examine the exposed page in Markfield's notebook,
and was rewarded by this. Weight of U dash tube
equals twenty four point seven seven nine two grams. Weight
of U dash two plus H two O equals twenty
(08:28):
four point nine zero four seven grams underline weight of
H two oh equals zero point one two five five grams.
Damned if I see what he's driving at, the inspector
said savagely to himself, it's Greek to me, a careless
young fellow, The Chief Constable pronounced acidly. My eye caught
(08:50):
three blunders and plain arithmetic as I glanced through these notes.
There's one on this page here, he indicated the open book.
He seems to have been a very slap down sort
of person. An unreliable young hound was Markfield's slightly intensified description.
It was pure influence that kept him here for more
than a week. Old Thornton, who put up most of
(09:12):
the money for building this place was interested in him,
knew his father, I think, and so we had to
keep the young pup here for fear of rasping Old
Thornton's feelings. Otherwise, the gesture accompanying the opposyoposis expressed Markfield's
idea of the fate, which would at once have befallen
young Hassendeen had his protector's influence been withdrawn. The Chief
(09:34):
Constable appeared enlightened by this fresh information. I couldn't imagine
how you came to let him have the run of
the place for so long, he confessed. But of course,
as things were, it was evidently cheaper to keep him,
even if he did no useful work. One can't afford
to alienate one's benefactors. After a pause, he continued, reverting,
(09:56):
apparently to an earlier line of thought. Let's see, you
made out that something like twelve times the normal dose
of high seine had been administered. Markfield nodded his assent,
but qualified it in words, that's a rough figure. Remember,
of course, Sir Clinton agreed. As a matter of fact,
the multiple I had in my mind was fifteen. I
(10:18):
suppose it's quite possible that some of the stuff escaped you,
and that your figure is an underestimate. Quite likely, Markfield admitted, frankly,
I gave you the lowest figure, naturally, a figure I
could swear to if it came to the point. As
this a legal case, it's safer to be under than
over the mark. But quite probably, as you say, I
(10:39):
didn't manage to isolate all the stuff that was really present,
and I wouldn't deny that the quantity in the body
may have run up to ten milligrams or even slightly
over it. Well, it's perhaps hardly worth bothering about, the
Chief Constable concluded. The main thing is that even at
the lowest estimate, she must have swallowed enough of the
poison to kill her in a reasonably short time. With this,
(11:02):
he seemed satisfied, and after a few questions about the
preparation and submission of Markfield's official report, he took his leave.
As he turned away, however, a fresh thought seemed to
strike him by the way, Doctor Markfield, do you know
if miss Hailsham's here this morning? I believe so, Markfield answered,
I saw her as I came in. I'd like to
(11:24):
have a few words with her. Sir Clinton, suggested. Officially,
Markfield demanded, you're not going to worry the girl, are you?
If it's anything I can tell you about, I'm the
only too glad. You know it's not very nice for
a girl to have the tale going round that she's
been hauled in by the police in a murder case.
The Chief Constable conceded the point without ado. Then perhaps
(11:46):
you could send for her and we could speak to
her in here. It would be more private and there
need be no talk about it outside. Very well, Markfield
acquiesced at once. I think that would be better. I'll
send for her now. He rang a bell and despatched
a boy with a message. In a few minutes to
tap on the door sounded, and Markfield ushered norma hailsham
(12:08):
into the room. Inspector Flamborough glanced at her with interest
to see how far his conception of her personality agreed
with reality. She was a girl apparently between twenty and
twenty five, dressed with scrupulous neatness. Quite obviously, she spent
money freely on her clothes and knew how to get
value for what she spent. But as his eyes traveled
(12:30):
up to her face, the inspector received a more vivid impression.
Her features were striking rather than handsome, and Flamborough noted
especially the squarish chin in the long, thin lipped, flexible mouth. Hum.
He commented to himself, she might flash up in a moment,
but with that jaw on those lips, she wouldn't cool
down again in a hurry. I was right when I
(12:53):
put her down as a vindictive type. Shouldn't much care
to have trouble with her myself. He glanced at Sir
Clinton for tacit instructions, But apparently the Chief Constable proposed
to take charge of the interview. Would you sit down,
miss Hailsham, Sir Clinton suggested, drawing forward a chair for
the girl. Flamborough noticed with professional interest that, by his
(13:15):
apparently casual courtesy, the Chief Constable had unobtrusively maneuvered the
girl into a position in which her face was clearly
illuminated by the light from the window. This is, Inspector Flamborough.
Sir Clinton went on with a gesture of introduction. We
should like to ask you one or two questions about
an awkward case we have in our hands, the Hassendeine business.
(13:36):
I'm afraid it will be painful for you, but I
am sure you'll give us what help you can. Norma
Hailsham's thin lips set in a hard line at his
first words, but the movement was apparently involuntary, for she
relaxed them again as Sir Clinton finished his remarks. I
shall be glad to give you any help I can,
she said in a level voice. Flamborough, studying her expression,
(13:59):
notice a swift shift of her glance from one to
the other of the three men before her. She's a
bit over self conscious, he judged privately. But she's the
regular lookmonger type anyhow, and quite likely she makes play
with her eyes when she's talking to any man. Sir
Clinton seemed to be making a merit of frankness. I
really haven't any definite questions I want to ask you,
(14:21):
miss Hailsham, he confessed. What we hoped was that you
might have something to tell us which indirectly might throw
some light on this affair. You see, we come into
it without knowing anything about the people involved, and naturally
any trifle may help us. Now, if I'm not mistaken,
you knew mister Hassendeen fairly well. I was engaged to
(14:41):
him at one time, he broke off the engagement for
various reasons. That's common knowledge, I believe. Could you give
us any of the reasons. I don't wish to pray
you understand, but I think it's an important point. Miss
Hailsham's face showed that he had touched a sore place.
He threw me over for another woman, brutally, missus Silverdale.
(15:04):
Sir Clinton inquired, yes, that creature. Ah. Now, I'd like
to put a blunt question. Was your engagement while it
lasted a happy one? I mean, of course, before he
was attracted to missus Silverdale. Norma Hailsham sat with knitted
brows for a few moments before answering. That's difficult to answer,
(15:25):
she pointed out. At last. I must confess that I
always felt he was thinking more of himself than of me,
and it was a disappointment. But you see, I was
very keen on him, and that made a difference. Of course,
what led to the breaking of your engagement? You mean,
what led up to it? Well, we were having continual
friction over Yvon Silverdale. He was neglecting me and spending
(15:49):
his time with her. Naturally, I spoke to him about
it more than once. I wasn't going to be slighter
than account of that woman. There was no mistaking the
undercurrent of animal amosity in the girl's voice. In the
last sentence, Sir Clinton ignored it. What were your ideas
about the relations between mister Hassendein and missus Silverdale. Miss
(16:11):
Hailsham's thin lips curled in an undisguised contempt as she
heard the question. She made a gesture as though averting
herself from something distasteful. It's hardly necessary to enter into that,
is it, she demanded. You can judge for yourself. But
though she verbally evaded the point, the tone in which
she spoke was sufficient to betray her private views on
(16:32):
the subject. Then, with intense bitterness mingled with a certain
malicious joy, she added, she got what she deserved in
the end, I don't pretend I'm sorry. I think they
were both well served. Then her temper, which hitherto had
kept under control, broke from restraint. I don't care who
knows it. They deserved all they got, both of them.
(16:54):
What business had she with a husband of her own
to come and lure him away? She made him break
off his engagement to me simply to gratify her own vanity.
You don't expect me to shed tears over them after that.
One can forgive a good deal, but there's no use
making a pretense and things like that. She hit me
as hard as she could, and I'm glad she's got
(17:16):
her desserts. I warned him at the time that he
wouldn't come off so well as he thought, and he
laughed in my face when I said it, Well, it's
my turn to laugh. The account's even, and she actually
did laugh, with a catch of hysteria and the laughter.
It needed no great skill in psychology to see that
wounded pride shared with disappointed passion in causing this outbreak.
(17:39):
Sir Clinton checked the hysteria before it gained a complete
hold over her. I am afraid you haven't told us
anything that was new to us, Miss Hailsham, he said, frigidly.
This melodramatic business gets us no further forward. The girl
looked at him with hard eyes. What help do you
expect from me, she demanded. I'm not anxious to see
him avenged. Far from it. Sir Clinton evidently realized that
(18:03):
nothing was to be gained by pursuing that line of inquiry,
whether the girl had any suspicions or not, she certainly
did not intend to supply information which might lead to
the capture of the murderer. The Chief Constable waited until
she had become calmer before putting his next question. Do
you happen to know anything about an alkaloid called hyacine?
(18:24):
Miss Hailsham hyacine? She repeated, yes, Aves Deep cars working
on it just now. She's been at it for some
time under doctor Silverdale's direction. Flamborough, glancing surreptitiously at Markfield,
noted an angry start, which the chemist apparently could not suppress.
Put on the alert. By this, the inspector reflected that
(18:46):
Markfield himself must have had this piece of information and
had refrained from volunteering it. I meant as regards its property,
Sir Clinton interposed, I'm not an expert in these things
like you chemical people. I'm not an alkaloid expert. Miss
Hailsham objected. All I can remember about it is that
it's used in Twilight's Sleep. I believe it is now
(19:08):
that you mention it. Sir Clinton agreed politely. By the way,
have you a car, Miss Hailsham. Yes, a Morris Oxford
for Cedar, A saloon, No, a touring model. Why do
you ask some one's been asking for information about a
car which seems to have knocked a man over on
the night of the last fog. You weren't out that night,
(19:29):
I suppose, miss Hailsham. I was, as it happened. I
went out to a dance, but i'd a sore throat
and the fog made it worse. So I came away
very early and got home as best I could. But
it wasn't my car that knocked anyone down. I never
had an accident in my life. You might have been
excusing that fog, I think, even if you had a collision.
(19:51):
But evidently it's not your car. We're after. What was
the number of the car we heard about? Inspector Flamborough
consulted his note book. G X nine O seven four.
Sir say that again, Markfield demanded, pricking up his ears.
G X nine O seven four was the number. That's
the number of my car, Markfield volunteered. He thought for
(20:15):
some time, apparently trying to retrace his experiences in the fog.
At last his face lighted up. Oh I guess I
know what it is. When I was piloting Doctor Ringwood
that night, a fellow nearly walked straight into my front
mud guard. I may have hurt his feelings by what
I said about his brains, but I swear I didn't
touch him with the car. Not our affair, Sir Clinton
(20:37):
hastened to assure him, it's a matter for your insurance
company if anything comes of it. And I gathered from
Doctor Ringwood that you didn't exactly break records in your
trip across town, so I doubt if you need worry,
I sha'n't, said Markfield Crossly. You can refer him to
me if he comes to you again. We'd nothing to
do with the matter, Sir Clinton pointed out he was
(20:58):
told he'd get the owner's addressed from the county council.
I expect he got into a calmer frame of mind
when he'd had time to think. He turned to Miss Hailsham,
who seemed to have recovered complete control over herself during
this interlude. I think that's all we need worry you with,
Miss Hailsham. I'm sorry that we put you to so
much trouble. As a sign that the interview was at
(21:20):
an end, he moved over to open the door for her.
I certainly don't wish you success, she said icily as
she left the room. Well, I think that's all we
have to do here, Inspector, Sir Clinton said, as he
turned back from the open door. We mustn't take up
any more of doctor Markfield's time. I don't want to
hurry you too much, he added to Markfield. But you'll
(21:40):
let us have your official report as soon as you can,
won't you? Markfield promised with a nod, and the two
officials left the building. When they reached headquarters again, Sir
Clinton led the way to his own office. Sit down
for a moment or two, Inspector, he invited, you may
as well glance over the London Man's report when you
about it here. It is not for actual use, of course,
(22:03):
until we get the official version from him. He passed
over a paper which Flamborough unfolded by the way. Sir
the Inspector inquired, before beginning to read, is there any
reason for keeping back this information? These infernal reporters are
all over me for details. And if this poison affair
could be published without doing any harm, I might as
(22:23):
well dole it out to them to keep them quiet.
They haven't had much from me in the last twenty
four hours, and it's better to give them what we can.
Sir Clinton seemed to attach some importance to this matter,
for he considered it for a few seconds before replying,
let them have the name of the stuff. He directed
at last, I don't think i'd supply them with any details,
(22:45):
though I'm quite satisfied about the name of the drug.
But the dose is still more or less a matter
of opinion, and we better not say anything about that.
Flamborough glanced up from the report in his hand. Markfield
and the London man both seemed to put the dose
round about the same figure, eight milligrams. He said, both
(23:06):
of them must be super sharp workers. Sir Clinton pointed out,
I don't profess to be a chemist inspector, but I
know enough about things to realize that they've done a
bit of a feat there. However, let's go out to
something more immediately interesting. What did you make of the
Hailshung girl? What did I make of her? Flamborough repeated,
in order to gain a little time, I thought you
(23:28):
was more or less what i'd expected her to be.
Sir a hard vix em with a good opinion of herself,
and simply mad with rage at being jilted. That's what
I made of her. Revengeful too, and a bit vulgar, Sir.
No decent girl would talk like that about a dead
man to a set of strangers. She hadn't much to
tell us. That was useful, Sir Clinton said, keeping to
(23:50):
the main point, and I quite agree with you as
to the general tone. Flamborough turned to a matter which
had puzzled him during their visit to the institute. What
did you want young Hassendean's notebook for, Sir? I didn't
quite make that out. Why you saw what I got
out of it? Arithmetical errors would prove conclusively that he
(24:11):
was a careless worker who didn't take any trouble at
all to verify his results. I had a kind of
notion that you got more out of it than that, sir,
or you wouldn't have asked to see Markville's notebook as well.
It doesn't take some one else's noteook to spot's lips
in a man's arithmetic. Surely, Sir Clinton gazed blandly at
his subordinate. Now that you've got that length it would
(24:34):
be a pity to spoil your pleasure in the rest
of the inference. Just think it out and tell me
the result to see if we both reach the same conclusion. Independently,
you'll find O weights and measures conversion table. Useful conversion table,
Sir asked the inspector, evidently quite at sea. Yes, one
meter equals thirty nine point three seven inches and all
(24:57):
that sort of thing, the sort of stuff one used school.
You know, too deep for me, sir. The inspector acknowledged ruefully.
You need to tell me the answer, and that reminds
me what made you ask whether the dose could have
been fifteen times the maximum. The Chief Constable was just
about to take pity on his subordinate when the desk
telephone rang sharply. Sir Clinton picked up the receiver. Yes,
(25:22):
Inspector Flamborough is here. He handed the receiver across to
the inspector, who conducted a disjointed conversation with the person
at the other end of the wire. At length. Flamborough
put down the instrument and turned to Sir Clinton with
an expression of satisfaction on his face. We're on to something, sir.
That was fossowah ringing up from Fountain Street. It seems
(25:43):
a man called there a few minutes ago and began
fishing round to know if there was any likelihood of
a reward being offered in connection with the bungalow case.
He seemed as if he might know something, and they
handed him over to Detective Sergeant Fossaway to see what
he could make of him. Fossowat is fairly satisfied that
there's something behind it, though he could extract nothing whatever
from the fellow in the way of definite statements. Has
(26:07):
fossiway got him there? Still, no, sir, he'd no power
to detain him, of course, and the fellow turned stubborn
in the end and went off without saying anything definite.
I hope they haven't lost him. Oh, no, sir, they
know him quite well. What sort of person is he? Then?
A nasty tight, sir. He keeps one of these little
(26:28):
low down shops where you can buy a lot of
queer things. Once we nearly had him over the sale
of some post cards, but he was too clever for
us at the last moment. Then he was up in
an assault case. He'd been wandering round the park after dark,
disturbing couples with a flash lamp. A thoroughly low down
little creature. His name's Wally. Sir Clinton's face showed very
(26:50):
plainly his view of the activities of mister Wally. Well,
so long as they can lay their hands on him
any time we need him, it's all right. I think
we'll persuade him to talk. By the way, was this
lamp flashing stunt of his done for esthetic enjoyment or
was he doing a bit of blackmailing on the quiet? Well,
nobody actually lodged a complaint against him, but there's no
(27:12):
saying whether people paid him or not. His record doesn't
make it improbable that he might do something in that line.
If he could manage to pull it off, then I'll
leave mister Waldy to your care, inspector. He sounds interesting
if you can induce him to squeak. And of chapter ten,
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