The Problem of the Green Capsule Read Online Free PDF Page A

the circumstances are almost exactly the same as in a famous poisoning case at Brighton over sixty years ago. You’ve heard the case of Christiana Edmunds in 1871? She worked the poisoned-chocolates dodge, getting a child to take them back to the shop and exchange them, in exactly the same way. Carried a duplicate bag in—I think—her muff; and palmed it off on the child like a conjuror.”
    Elliot considered. “Christiana Edmunds, if I remember,” he said, “was mad. She died in Broadmoor.”
    “Yes,” agreed the majorbluntly; “and some people think this girl will too.”
    After a pause he went on with an air of reasonableness.
    “But look at the case against her! Or, rather, the lack of a case. Won’t wash: simply won’t wash. First, no poison can be traced to her; it can’t be proved that she bought, borrowed, found, or stole a millionth of a grain. The local answer to that is simple. She’s a great favourite of Dr. Chesney; and Joe Chesney, they say, is the sort of careless person who would leave strychnine lying loose about the place like tobacco. It’s true that he has strychnine inhis surgery, but he’s accounted to us for all of it.
    “Second, Mrs. Terry herself swears that only sixchocolates were returned in the bag Frankie Dale brought back.
    “Third, if Marjorie Wills did that, she went about it in an incredibly asinine way. She didn’t even take the precautions of mad Christiana Edmunds. After all, Brighton is a big place; and a woman who chose a child who didn’t know her to make the exchange would run a reasonable chance of not being identified afterwards. But this girl!—smack in the middle of a small place like this, speaking to a boy who knew her, and in the presence of witnesses? Hang it, she went out of her way to call attention to herself! If she wanted to poison the chocolates, she would have done it completely unsuspected in the other way I’ve told you about.
    “No, Inspector. There’s not a point in the case against her that a good counsel wouldn’t shoot to pieces in twenty minutes; and we can’t afford to make an arrest just to satisfy Uncle Tom Cobleigh and all. Besides, I hope it’s not true. She’s a pretty little thing, and nothing has ever been known against her except that the Chesneys in general are queer.”
    “Did this popular excitement against her start before the Chesneys went away on their trip?”
    “Well, it was simmering a bit. It only came fully to the surface when they did go. And, now that they’re back, it’s worse. The Superintendent here has been in a stew for fear some hotheads will go up and try to smash up Marcus’s greenhouses. I don’t anticipate that, though. The local lad talks a lot, but he’s almost heavily patient. He expects authority to act for him, and won’t cut up rough unless it doesn’t. Gad, I’m willing to do anything possible!” said the Major, with sudden plaintiveness. “I’ve got children of my own and I don’t like this business any better than the rest of them. Besides, Marcus Chesney’s attitude hasn’t helped any. He came back from the Continent roaring for blood, and saying he was going to solve our problem for us after we had failed. In fact, I understand he was in here only the day before yesterday with some nonsense, asking questions——”
    Elliot pricked up his ears.
    “Was he?” Elliot demanded. “About what, sir?”
    The Chief Constable glanced inquiringly at Superintendent Bostwick. Speech struggled up massively in the latter.
    “Gentleman wanted to know,” said Superintendent Bostwick, with sarcasm, “the exact size of the chocolate-boxes on Mrs. Terry’s counter. I asked him why he wanted to know. He flew off into a temper, and said it was none of my business. I said he better ask Mrs. Terry, then. He said”—the Superintendent chuckled with spectral enjoyment—“he said he had another question to ask me; but, since I was such a bleeding fool, he wouldn’t ask it and I could take the