Police at the Funeral

Chapter 17 Open Verdict

The gaiety and warmth of Ann Held's unacademic study seemed only half-hearted when its owner and Mr Campion sat one on either side of the fire at half-past five on Monday, waiting for Marcus and Joyce to return from the inquest on Aunt Julia. Ann, who had cheerfully shouldered half Joyce's troubles, smiled at the bespectacled young man opposite her.

'Of course I'm awfully glad to have you,' she said, 'but why didn't you stay for the verdict?'

Campion turned a mournful face towards her. 'I couldn't bear Stanislaus's cold and slightly unchristian attitude any longer,' he said. 'He's an old friend of mine, and contrary to the best traditions of the amateur sleuth, I have put my foot in it rather badly with him. It's most unfair, too,' he went on. 'I gave him the broadest possible hint; in fact I told him that if he visited every public-house between the Grantchester meadows footpath and Socrates Close he would find Uncle William's alibi. But just because I didn't go further and mention that I had already interviewed the redoubtable Mrs Finch, of "The Red Bull", who had assured me that she could state on her oath that Mr William Faraday, dazed and a little queer, had entered her establishment at fifteen minutes to one and left it in an aimless fashion half an hour later, he is quite ridiculously annoyed with me. I consider myself down-trodden. Did you ever read a book called Misunderstood?'

Ann Held began to laugh. 'I always thought that child deserved all he got,' she remarked.

'He did,' said Mr Campion. 'So do I. That's where the tragedy comes in. They're late,' he went on. 'The jury must have taken longer to make up their minds than I expected. The coroner is a first-class man. He knows what he is about, and he seems to be able to write faster than most of his tribe.'

'I don't see what that has to do with it,' said Miss Held.

He enlightened her. 'Everything said in the court is taken down by the coroner in longhand. That's why witnesses are encouraged to be short and snappy. We are extremely lucky to get this inquest over in one day,' he added, 'although of course there was precious little evidence of any kind to be given.'

Ann curled up in her chair. 'This is a most remarkable business,' she said, 'and of course I'm an outsider, so I may easily make a fool of myself. But it seems to me that this is obviously a matter for--well, a medico psychologist, or whatever you call them.'

Mr Campion stretched his long thin legs to the blaze and the firelight flickered on his spectacles.

'It is,' he said. 'But what's the good of that? The difficulty about psychology is that it hasn't any rules. I mean, if one person can imagine the state of mind in which another might perform certain acts, then those acts are sound psychology. In other words, given a person's batty enough, there is nothing he or she may not do. That's as far as anyone seems to have got at present.'

'Batty,' said Ann Held. 'You've said it. I suppose they'll bring this in a verdict of murder.'

'Oh, no,' said Mr Campion. 'At least, I hope not. No one will be more surprised than my ex-friend Inspector Oates if they do. Of course they may do anything. There's a problem in psychology for you. Why does the collective mind of twelve men work more irrationally, more prejudicially than that of any of those same twelve men taken separately? Hullo, here they are.'

He swung round in his chair and rose as Joyce and Marcus entered. Joyce looked exhausted, and she sank wearily into a chair. Campion looked inquiringly at Marcus.

'Open verdict?' he asked.

The young man nodded. 'Yes. "The deceased met her death by conium poisoning, but there is not sufficient evidence to show whether it was self-administered or not." They were away for some time. I think there was a strong vote in favour of suicide, Ann, you're a heroine to put up with us like this.'

'You sit down,' said his hostess. 'I'm making tea. Joyce, you look all in.'

There was a welcome pause while the little brass kettle on the hob was persuaded to boil and the tea brewed. Joyce took off her hat and passed her hand over her hair.

'It's wonderful to be back here after that terrible room,' she said. 'I hadn't realized it was going to be so public, and I loathed the people who came to watch. What's it got to do with them, anyhow? They tell me I shan't be needed tomorrow. I'm so glad. Ann, I don't know what I should do without you.'

Miss Held smiled at her across the teacups. 'Mr Campion was saying they are lucky to get it over so soon,' she remarked.

'We are,' said Marcus. 'By the way, I thought the coroner was splendid. He's a first-class man.' He paused, recalling the scene to his mind. 'Uncle William came out unexpectedly well,' he remarked. 'I hope he has the same luck tomorrow when the inquest on Andrew is resumed.'

'It is extraordinary,' said Joyce slowly, 'what a different person Uncle William is in public. It's just as though he's able to put over the impression one always feels he's trying to create at home.'

Marcus smiled sourly. 'He'll have Campion to thank if he doesn't make an extremely awkward impression tomorrow at the inquest on Andrew,' he said. 'But I think that alibi will save his bacon altogether. By the way, I had a line from Sir Gordon Woodthorpe this morning. He's going to be a very decent old boy over the business. Uncle William really has been a first-class lunatic. Still, it's the alibi which is really important. It's rather odd that the police, by concentrating on the time of Seeley's murder, have punctured what case they had against William completely. Why did you wait until today to tell the Inspector, Campion?'

'That's what Stanislaus says,' said that young man regretfully. 'In fact, he's very rude about it. Yet I gave him every hint I could. You see, I wanted him to concentrate on Uncle William, because,' he added slowly, 'I believe that Uncle William has the key to the whole problem in his hand if he could only realize it.'

The three looked at him questioningly, but he offered no further explanation, and something in his manner prevented them from pressing him. Joyce shivered.

'When that expert gave evidence that there had been a trace of conium in Aunt Julia's cup, I was waiting for a verdict of murder,' she said. 'Then of course that long rigmarole about the patent medicine we found came out. That cleared Aunt Kitty. But they didn't say they had found any trace of conium in the paper which held the medicine.'

'No,' said Marcus. 'That's why there wasn't a murder verdict. There wasn't any trace. But it doesn't take much imagination to see that that was the way the stuff was administered. The drug must have been soaked into one of the pellets which was then recoated. It probably looked exactly like the others.'

Joyce nodded. There was a far-away look in her brown eyes.

'Albert,' she said, 'we're all being indiscreet, and thank goodness it doesn't matter here. Did you ever find out about the rope?'

He nodded. 'It was identical,' he said. 'This isn't to be broadcast, of course, although it'll all come out tomorrow. Yes, it was obviously the same stuff. That takes us straight back to the house again. We haven't accounted for the clock weight yet, either.'

The girl leant back and closed her eyes. 'I'm ashamed to say it,' she said, 'but when Aunt Faraday insisted that I should leave the house yesterday I was glad. I never thought I was a funk before, but I am. That ludicrous footmark, the attack on Uncle William, the dreadful atmosphere of something dark and awful going on right under one's nose, it got me down. Poor Aunt Kitty! Is she all right? She looked so little and helpless in the box.'

'I think of all the people in that house,' said Mr Campion judicially, 'Aunt Kitty's position is the safest. But I'm glad you're out of it.'

Once again they looked at him inquiringly, and it was Ann Held who put the question.

'When?' she said. 'When will you know?'

To their astonishment he rose to his feet and strode restlessly up and down the room. Neither Marcus nor Joyce had ever seen him so agitated before.

'I don't know,' he said. 'My theory is only a theory. I have no proof. I have only an idea that came in the night. Look here, my children, I must go back. I shall see you all tomorrow.'

Marcus followed him to the doorway. 'I say,' he said anxiously, 'it's not a thing I advise, of course, but if you need a revolver...'

Campion shook his head. 'Thanks, old boy, I have one,' he said. 'To tell you the truth, there's only one thing I could have to make me feel really safe.'

'And that?' inquired Marcus eagerly.

'Suits of armour and solitary confinement for four,' said Mr Campion.