People who got copies of both the local papers on their breakfast tables on Friday morning must have been struck by the different ways in which the Times and the Journal treated the inquest.
Both papers, naturally, reported at length the evidence which had been given. At that point the Journal concluded with a brief comment that an improper intervention by a member of the public had caused the Coroner to consider the advisability of discharging the jury.
Arthur Driffield had exercised no such restraint.
He had been prevented by the Coroner from publicising the state of affairs in the Close. Very well. That was the Coroner’s privilege. He was master in his own court. But he was not master of the Melset Times.
Under a subheading, questions which demand an answer, he said: “There were a number of curious points about the hearing which must have struck a disinterested spectator. Why did the Coroner seem anxious to hush up the dissensions which had divided the Close into two warring camps? As this paper has reported, the burning question was whether or not to accept a very favourable offer for the land on the other side of the river known as Fletcher’s Piece. We are reliably informed that the Chapter was equally divided. The Dean and one Canon were opposed to the project. The Archdeacon and one Canon were in favour of it. The Archdeacon was determined to put the matter to the Greater Chapter. His death has pre-empted this decision.
“A second point was surely significant. According to Superintendent Bracher, his inquiries have been deliberately obstructed by the Dean, who had forbidden members of the Close community to co-operate with the police. But for this it seems likely that they would by now be in possession of the final pieces of evidence necessary to bring home a charge of murder—”
When he had read as far as this, Grant Adey said to his wife, “Arthur really is sticking his neck out. He’s implying, as clearly as possible, that the Dean and Amanda planned the job between them.”
His wife said, “I should have thought that was pretty obvious by now. She brewed up the stuff out of that weedkiller she’d bought and put it into a cup and told one of the boys to take it to the Archdeacon.”
“That may have been what happened,” said Adey, “but it hasn’t been proved yet. And I’m not sure this isn’t contempt of court.”
“I don’t think you can be contemptuous of a Coroner’s Court,” said his wife. She had read law before marrying Grant and he frequently consulted her on matters of this sort.
The first and natural reaction of the reporters who attended the inquest from London had been to get a statement from the Dean. This had proved unexpectedly difficult. Since the Deanery was not on the telephone, they had been denied one favoured method of approach, which was to ring their victim up and obtain incautious but reportable comments. Direct access proved equally difficult. Those who got as far as the Deanery gate were met by Mullins, with young Ernie in support. Young Ernie was Sam Courthope’s assistant. He was a large youth who attended Judo classes in his spare time and seemed anxious to demonstrate his technique on anyone attempting entry by force.
In fact, had they succeeded in bypassing Ernie, their enterprise would have been profitless. The Dean had already left the house early that morning by the wicket gate in the garden wall and a private path across Lady Fallingford’s garden.
By ten past ten every seat in the court was full. Amanda was there with Penny. She must have been aware that people in the room were looking at her and talking about her, but she gave no sign of it. One person conspicuously missing was Rosa. The Coroner had been firm about that. If Rosa was allowed in, he would adjourn the court. At ten twenty-five the jury filed in through a door beside the rostrum and took their seats. It was felt to be significant by people expert in such matters that they refrained from looking at Amanda. Phil Rosewarn whispered to Bill Williams, “I think they’ve made their minds up, don’t you?” Bill nodded.
At this point, when everyone was expecting the appearance of the Coroner, the public door opened and the Dean appeared, leaning on his stick. He advanced slowly along the front row of seats. Penny got up. The Dean said, “Thank you, Penny,” and took her seat. Penny retired to stand at the back of the room.
“Good theatre,” said Rosewarn. “He doesn’t seem to be any more worried than Amanda is.”
“It’d take more than this to worry him,” said Bill. “Here comes the Coroner.”
Everyone rose and sank back again into their seats.
The Coroner said, “I have given anxious thought to my duty in this matter. As those of you who were here yesterday will be aware, toward the close of the proceedings an entirely irregular statement, by someone who was not on oath, was made from the body of the hall. It was no doubt intended to influence the minds of the jury. I can only trust that it has not done so.”
The jury looked pointedly at the ground.
“In any event, what was said has no doubt been so widely repeated that it seemed to me that no purpose would be served by impanelling a fresh jury, and I have therefore decided to let the hearing proceed. Dr Barkworth, please.”
Dr Barkworth’s evidence did not amount to much. He explained how he had come to make his original diagnosis of influenza and why he had made it, and after ten minutes of this was followed by Dr McHarg.
The Coroner said, “There are one or two points you can clear up for us, Doctor. First, have you any comment to make on the original diagnosis?”
“Certainly. In the same caircumstances, I should probably have made the same diagnosis as Dr Barkworth.”
“Could you tell us why?”
“Because none of the normal processes of pathological examination would have detected the presence of nicotine. It required laboratory analysis to establish that.”
“Thank you, Doctor. In view of certain unfounded criticisms which have been made, I thought it as well to have that point publicly established.”
“The brotherhood of medicine,” murmured Bill Williams.
“Another point on which you may be able to enlighten us, Doctor. I presume that nicotine has an unpleasant taste.”
“Certainly. Though not as unpleasant as most other toxic substances.”
“But coffee would disguise the taste?”
“Yes. Particularly black coffee, or coffee heavily sweetened with sugar.”
“I meant to ask about that. The coffee on this occasion was served black?”
“Yes. There was milk and sugar on the tables if you wanted them.”
After one or two further questions the Coroner indicated that he had finished with Dr McHarg, but the jury had not. A small juryman with a gnome-like face and pebble glasses, who seemed to have constituted himself an unofficial foreman, held up his hand and said, “Are we allowed to ask questions?”
“Certainly. Mr Kinloch, isn’t it?”
“That’s right. What we’d like to know is why Dr McHarg changed his mind.”
“Did he?”
“We heard that he was going to give a death certificate, but changed his mind at the last moment.”
“I can answer that,” said Dr McHarg. “I changed my mind when I haird from Dr Scotland exactly what symptoms he had obsairved during the closing moments of the Archdeacon’s life.”
“And those were the symptoms of nicotine poisoning?”
“They were consistent with it.”
“Then wasn’t it Dr Scotland’s duty to report this to the police immediately?”
“I don’t think we can criticise Dr Scotland in his absence,” said the Coroner. “He should be with us soon.”
It was already nearly half past eleven and he was wondering whether the missing experts might have overslept.
They had not overslept. The three of them had started in very good time, in Dr Leigh’s aged Humber, and had soon been deep in medical shop. Crossing Blackwater Common, in the middle of an interesting discussion on some recent theories about the circulation of the blood, they had suddenly realised that there was something very wrong with the circulation of their car. It had given a number of deep coughs – “Very like an asthmatic patient I once had,” said Dr Gadney – and had come to a halt.
Fortunately, the delay had not been long. An AA patrol had come past and had got to work with an air pump, observed by the doctors with the close interest of professionals watching another professional at work.
“A pity you couldn’t deal with your patient like that,” said Dr Leigh. “We shall be a bit late, but I expect they’ll wait for us.”
They arrived at the exact moment that Dr McHarg was quitting the stand. Dr Gadney stepped into his place and was introduced to the jury, who looked gratified at meeting such an eminent medical authority.
“We have your report,” said the Coroner. “It is a rather technical document and the jury might like a clarification of some points in it. Also we thought that you might want to elaborate on it.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Dr Gadney. “I would welcome the opportunity of adding something to my report. Particularly since, with the kind assistance of Dr Leigh from the Poisons Unit at New Cross, we have been able to make a further examination of the samples supplied to us and have some additional information which you may consider relevant.”
James, who knew what was coming, was reminded of an expert diver poised on the high board, calculating the precise parabola of his flight, the exact moment to launch himself.
But Dr Gadney was not quite ready to jump. First he explained, in simple terms, how the chromatograph worked, throwing up different peaks on the graph which could then be identified by spectrometry. The jury seemed to be following it all right.
“We were puzzled,” he said, “by a small peak which eluted—I’m sorry—I mean, which appeared toward the end of the trace. It was only the exceptional capability of Dr Leigh’s new apparatus which showed it at all. However, having spotted it, we were able to identify it without too much difficulty. It was menthol.”
There was a long pause. Then the Coroner said, “That was a curious thing to find, Dr Gadney. What did you make of it?”
“It was a real puzzler. You appreciate, sir, that if the nicotine had come from a pharmacist, or even from some chemical compound like a weedkiller, it certainly would not have been mixed with menthol. So one was forced to look for some other source for the nicotine. It then occurred to us that it might have been obtained by mashing and distilling a number of what are called menthol cigarettes. This seemed quite a promising theory. When we looked into the matter further and succeeded in isolating traces of coteinine and nitrites, both indicating the presence of tobacco, the theory seemed not only possible but very probable indeed.”
“That is a very interesting idea, Doctor. I have, of course, seen so-called menthol cigarettes advertised. Do they actually contain menthol?”
“Yes, sir. We were able to consult a colleague who is associated with one of the big tobacco groups. He told us that the menthol is either in the wrapping or in the filter. Less often in the tobacco itself. The manufacturers are careful to avoid any medical claims for their product. They simply describe the cigarettes as ‘menthol cool’. But it became widely believed that they alleviated catarrh and other afflictions of the throat. Singers and speakers liked them for that reason. Also an idea got about that they were less likely to cause lung cancer than normal cigarettes. I do not know whether there was any truth in that, but it no doubt assisted their sales. They were particularly popular with women.”
The Coroner thought about this. He said, “You spoke of distilling, Doctor. Would that be a very complex process?”
“Not in the least. You could do it, at a pinch, with ordinary kitchen equipment. In fact, I believe they sell simple distilling sets to schoolboys. You’d just boil the tobacco mash and distil off the vapour. Nothing to it. You’d get about two milligrams of nicotine from each cigarette. A lethal dose is usually calculated to be between forty and sixty milligrams. So, say twenty to thirty cigarettes.”
James was observing the reactions of the jury. They looked disappointed and, he thought, resentful. It was as though they had imagined they were being presented with one problem to which they could see a straightforward and satisfactory answer and were suddenly faced with a different problem altogether.
The Coroner said, “Is that all that you wished to tell us, Doctor?”
“That is all that we have been able to detect, for the moment, from the samples submitted to us. We are still examining them.”
The Coroner turned to Superintendent Bracher.
“In the light of what we have learned this morning, I imagine that the police would like a chance to conduct further inquiries.”
Bracher nodded bleakly.
“In that case, I will adjourn the hearing for fifteen days.” He looked at his calendar. “No. That will bring us to a Saturday. I had better say, until Monday fortnight. If the police require more time, we can always have a further adjournment. And, members of the jury, I think you agree that what we have heard demonstrates the advisability of all of us keeping open minds until the whole of the evidence is in front of us.”
“All rise,” said the coroner’s officer.