Ill

The small quiet voice of Mr Justice Wargrave said:

‘One more of us acquitted—too late!’

Armstrong was bent over the dead woman. He sniffed the lips, shook his head, peered into the eyelids.

Lombard said impatiently:

‘How did she die, doctor? She was all right when we left her here!’

Armstrong’s attention was riveted on a mark on the right side of the neck.

He said:

‘That’s the mark of a hypodermic syringe.’

There was a buzzing sound from the window. Vera cried:

‘Look—a bee—a bumble bee. Remember what I said this morning!’

Armstrong said grimly:

‘It wasn’t that bee that stung her! A human hand held the syringe.’

The judge asked:

‘What poison was injected?’

Armstrong answered:

‘At a guess, one of the cyanides. Probably potassium cyanide, same as Anthony Marston. She must have died almost immediately by asphyxiation.’

Vera cried:

‘But that bee? It can’t be coincidence?’

Lombard said grimly:

‘Oh no, it isn’t coincidence! It’s our murderer’s touch of local colour! He’s a playful beast. Likes to stick to his damnable nursery jingle as closely as possible!’

For the first time his voice was uneven, almost shrill. It was as though even his nerves, seasoned by a long career of hazards and dangerous undertakings, had given out at last.

He said violently:

‘It’s mad!—absolutely mad—we’re all mad!’

The judge said calmly:

‘We have still, I hope, our reasoning powers. Did any one bring a hypodermic syringe to this house?’

Dr Armstrong, straightening himself, said in a voice that was not too well assured:

‘Yes, I did.’

Four pairs of eyes fastened on him. He braced himself against the deep hostile suspicion of those eyes. He said:

‘Always travel with one. Most doctors do.’

Mr Justice Wargrave said calmly:

‘Quite so. Will you tell us, doctor, where that syringe is now?’

‘In the suitcase in my room.’

Wargrave said:

‘We might, perhaps, verify that fact.’

The five of them went upstairs, a silent procession.

The contents of the suitcase were turned out on the floor.

The hypodermic syringe was not there.

IV

Armstrong said violently:

‘Somebody must have taken it!’

There was silence in the room.

Armstrong stood with his back to the window. Four pairs of eyes were on him, black with suspicion and accusation. He looked from Wargrave to Vera and repeated helplessly— weakly:

‘I tell you someone must have taken it.’

Blore was looking at Lombard who returned his gaze.

The judge said:

‘There are five of us here in this room. One of us is a murderer. The position is fraught with grave danger. Everything must be done in order to safeguard the four of us who are innocent. I will now ask you, Dr Armstrong, what drugs you have in your possession.’

Armstrong replied:

‘I have a small medicine case here. You can examine it. You will find some sleeping stuff—trional and sulphonal tablets—a packet of bromide, bicarbonate of soda, aspirin. Nothing else. I have no cyanide in my possession.’

The judge said:

‘I have, myself, some sleeping tablets—sulphonal, I think they are. I presume they would be lethal if a sufficiently large dose were given. You, Mr Lombard, have in your possession a revolver.’

Philip Lombard said sharply:

‘What if I have?’

‘Only this. I propose that the doctor’s supply of drugs, my own sulphonal tablets, your revolver and anything else of the nature of drugs or firearms should be collected together and placed in a safe place. That after this is done, we should each of us submit to a search—both of our persons and of our effects.’

Lombard said:

‘I’m damned if I’ll give up my revolver!’

Wargrave said sharply:

‘Mr Lombard, you are a very strongly built and powerful young man, but ex-Inspector Blore is also a man of powerful physique. I do not know what the outcome of a struggle between you would be but I can tell you this. On Blore’s side, assisting him to the best of our ability will be myself, Dr Armstrong and Miss Claythorne. You will appreciate therefore, that the odds against you if you choose to resist will be somewhat heavy.’

Lombard threw his head back. His teeth showed in what was almost a snarl.

‘Oh, very well, then. Since you’ve got it all taped out.’

Mr Justice Wargrave nodded his head.

‘You are a sensible young man. Where is this revolver of yours?’

‘In the drawer of the table by my bed.’

‘Good.’

‘I’ll fetch it.’

‘I think it would be desirable if we went with you.’

Philip said with a smile that was still nearer a snarl:

‘Suspicious devil, aren’t you?’

They went along the corridor to Lombard’s room.

Philip strode across to the bed-table and jerked open the drawer.

Then he recoiled with an oath.

The drawer of the bed-table was empty.

V

‘Satisfied?’ asked Lombard.

He had stripped to the skin and he and his room had been meticulously searched by the other three men. Vera Claythorne was outside in the corridor.

The search proceeded methodically. In turn, Armstrong, the judge, and Blore submitted to the same test.

The four men emerged from Blore’s room and approached Vera. It was the judge who spoke.

‘I hope you will understand, Miss Claythorne, that we can make no exceptions. That revolver must be found. You have, I presume, a bathing dress with you?’

Vera nodded.

‘Then I will ask you to go into your room and put it on and then come out to us here.’

Vera went into her room and shut the door. She reappeared in under a minute dressed in a tight-fitting silk rucked bathing dress.

Wargrave nodded approval.

‘Thank you, Miss Claythorne. Now if you will remain here, we will search your room.’

Vera waited patiently in the corridor until they emerged. Then she went in, dressed, and came out to where they were waiting.

The judge said:

‘We are now assured of one thing. There are no lethal weapons or drugs in the possession of any of us five. That is one point to the good. We will now place the drugs in a safe place. There is, I think, a silver chest, is there not, in the pantry?’

Blore said:

‘That’s all very well, but who’s to have the key? You, I suppose.’

Mr Justice Wargrave made no reply.

He went down to the pantry and the others followed him. There was a small case there designed for the purpose of holding silver and plate. By the judge’s directions, the various drugs were placed in this and it was locked. Then, still on Wargrave’s instructions, the chest was lifted into the plate cupboard and this in turn was locked. The judge then gave the key of the chest to Philip Lombard and the key of the cupboard to Blore.

He said:

‘You two are the strongest physically. It would be difficult for either of you to get the key from the other. It would be impossible for any of us three to do so. To break open the cupboard—or the plate chest—would be a noisy and cumbersome proceeding and one which could hardly be carried out without attention being attracted to what was going on.’

He paused, then went on:

‘We are still faced by one very grave problem. What has become of Mr Lombard’s revolver?

Blore said:

‘Seems to me its owner is the most likely person to know that.’

A white dint showed in Philip Lombard’s nostrils. He said:

‘You damned pig-headed fool! I tell you it’s been stolen from me!’

Wargrave asked:

‘When did you see it last?’

‘Last night. It was in the drawer when I went to bed—ready in case anything happened.’

The judge nodded.

He said:

‘It must have been taken this morning during the confusion of searching for Rogers or after his dead body was discovered.’

Vera said:

‘It must be hidden somewhere about the house. We must look for it.’

Mr Justice Wargrave’s finger was stroking his chin.

He said:

‘I doubt if our search will result in anything. Our murderer has had plenty of time to devise a hiding-place. I do not fancy we shall find that revolver easily.’

Blore said forcefully:

‘I don’t know where the revolver is, but I’ll bet I know where something else is—that hypodermic syringe. Follow me.’

He opened the front door and led the way round the house.

A little distance away from the dining-room window he found the syringe. Beside it was a smashed china figure—a sixth broken soldier boy.

Blore said in a satisfied voice:

‘Only place it could be. After he’d killed her, he opened the window and threw out the syringe and picked up the china figure from the table and followed on with that.’

There were no prints on the syringe. It had been carefully wiped.

Vera said in a determined voice:

‘Now let us look for the revolver.’

Mr Justice Wargrave said:

‘By all means. But in doing so let us be careful to keep together. Remember, if we separate, the murderer gets his chance.’

They searched the house carefully from attic to cellars, but without result. The revolver was still missing.