A Pocket Full of Rye Read Online Free PDF Page A

apartment, clearly labelled “Smoking Room,” with panelling, rich upholstery, large stuffed chairs, and a suitable set of sporting prints on the walls.
    “Please sit down.”
    He sat and Mary Dove sat opposite him. She chose, he noticed, to face the light. An unusual preference for a woman. Still more unusual if a woman had anything to hide. But perhaps Mary Dove had nothing to hide.
    “It is very unfortunate,” she said, “that none of the family is available. Mrs Fortescue may return at any minute. And so may Mrs Val. I have sent wires to Mr Percival Fortescue at various places.”
    “Thank you, Miss Dove.”
    “You say that Mr Fortescue's death was caused by something he may have eaten for breakfast? Food poisoning, you mean?”
    “Possibly.” He watched her.
    She said composedly, “It seems unlikely. For breakfast this morning there were bacon and scrambled eggs, coffee, toast and marmalade. There was also a cold ham on the sideboard, but that had been cut yesterday, and no one felt any ill effects. No fish of any kind was served, no sausages - nothing like that.”
    “I see you know exactly what was served.”
    “Naturally. I order the meals. For dinner last night -”
    “No.” Inspector Neele interrupted her. “It would not be a question of dinner last night.”
    “I thought the onset of food poisoning could sometimes be delayed as much as twenty-four hours.”
    “Not in this case... Will you tell me exactly what Mr Fortescue ate and drank before leaving the house this morning?”
    “He had early tea brought to his room at eight o'clock. Breakfast was at a quarter past nine. Mr Fortescue, as I have told you, had scrambled eggs, bacon, coffee, toast and marmalade.”
    “Any cereal?”
    “No, he didn't like cereals.”
    “The sugar for the coffee - is it lump sugar or granulated?”
    “Lump. But Mr Fortescue did not take sugar in his coffee.”
    “Was he in the habit of taking any medicines in the morning? Salts? A tonic? Some digestive remedy?”
    “No, nothing of that kind.”
    “Did you have breakfast with him also?”
    “No. I do not take meals with the family.”
    “Who was at breakfast?”
    “Mrs Fortescue. Miss Fortescue. Mrs Val Fortescue. Mr Percival Fortescue, of course, was away.”
    “And Mrs and Miss Fortescue ate the same things for breakfast?”
    “Mrs Fortescue has only coffee, orange juice and toast, Mrs Val and Miss Fortescue always eat a hearty breakfast. Besides eating scrambled eggs and cold ham, they would probably have a cereal as well. Mrs Val drinks tea, not coffee.”
    Inspector Neele reflected for a moment. The opportunities seemed at least to be narrowing down. Three people and three people only had had breakfast with the deceased, his wife, his daughter and his daughter-in-law. Either of them might have seized an opportunity to add taxine to his cup of coffee. The bitterness of the coffee would have masked the bitter taste of the taxine. There was the early morning tea, of course, but Bernsdorff had intimated that the taste would be noticeable in tea. But perhaps, first thing in the morning, before the senses were alert... He looked up to find Mary Dove watching him.
    “Your questions about tonic and medicines seem to me rather odd. Inspector,” she said. “It seems to imply that either there was something wrong with a medicine, or that something had been added to it. Surely neither of those processes could be described as food poisoning.”
    Neele eyed her steadily.
    “I did not say - definitely - that Mr Fortescue died of food poisoning.”
    “But some kind of poisoning. In fact - just poisoning.”
    She repeated softly “Poisoning...”
    She appeared neither startled nor dismayed, merely interested. Her attitude was of one sampling a new experience.
    In fact she said as much, remarking after a moment's reflection: “I have never had anything to do with a poisoning case before.”
    “It's not very pleasant,” Neele informed her dryly.
    “No - I