The Old Man in the Corner · Chapter 10 (2/2)

“That the death was more mysterious even than it had at first appeared became very soon apparent. You read the case at the time, no doubt, and must remember the excitement in the public mind caused by the evidence of the two doctors. Dr. Arthur Jones, the lady’s usual medical man, who had attended her in a last very slight illness, and who had seen her in a professional capacity fairly recently, declared most emphatically that Mrs. Hazeldene suffered from no organic complaint which could possibly have been the cause of sudden death. Moreover, he had assisted Mr. Andrew Thornton, the district medical officer, in making a postmortem examination, and together they had come to the conclusion that death was due to the action of prussic acid, which had caused instantaneous failure of the heart, but how the drug had been administered neither he nor his colleague were at present able to state.

“ ‘Do I understand, then, Dr. Jones, that the deceased died, poisoned with prussic acid?’

“ ‘Such is my opinion,’ replied the doctor.

“ ‘Did the bottle found in her satchel contain prussic acid?’

“ ‘It had contained some at one time, certainly.’

“ ‘In your opinion, then, the lady caused her own death by taking a dose of that drug?’

“ ‘Pardon me, I never suggested such a thing; the lady died poisoned by the drug, but how the drug was administered we cannot say. By injection of some sort, certainly. The drug certainly was not swallowed; there was not a vestige of it in the stomach.’

“ ‘Yes,’ added the doctor in reply to another question from the coroner, ‘death had probably followed the injection in this case almost immediately; say within a couple of minutes, or perhaps three. It was quite possible that the body would not have more than one quick and sudden convulsion, perhaps not that; death in such cases is absolutely sudden and crushing.’

“I don’t think that at the time anyone in the room realized how important the doctor’s statement was, a statement which, by the way, was confirmed in all its details by the district medical officer, who had conducted the postmortem. Mrs. Hazeldene had died suddenly from an injection of prussic acid, administered no one knew how or when. She had been travelling in a first-class railway carriage in a busy time of the day. That young and elegant woman must have had singular nerve and coolness to go through the process of a self-inflicted injection of a deadly poison in the presence of perhaps two or three other persons.

“Mind you, when I say that no one there realized the importance of the doctor’s statement at that moment, I am wrong; there were three persons, who fully understood at once the gravity of the situation, and the astounding development which the case was beginning to assume.

“Of course, I should have put myself out of the question,” added the weird old man, with that inimitable self-conceit peculiar to himself. “I guessed then and there in a moment where the police were going wrong, and where they would go on going wrong until the mysterious death on the Underground Railway had sunk into oblivion, together with the other cases which they mismanage from time to time.

“I said there were three persons who understood the gravity of the two doctors’ statements⁠—the other two were, firstly, the detective who had originally examined the railway carriage, a young man of energy and plenty of misguided intelligence, the other was Mr. Hazeldene.

“At this point the interesting element of the whole story was first introduced into the proceedings, and this was done through the humble channel of Emma Funnel, Mrs. Hazeldene’s maid, who, as far as was known then, was the last person who had seen the unfortunate lady alive and had spoken to her.

“ ‘Mrs. Hazeldene lunched at home,’ explained Emma, who was shy, and spoke almost in a whisper; ‘she seemed well and cheerful. She went out at about half-past three, and told me she was going to Spence’s, in St. Paul’s Churchyard, to try on her new tailor-made gown. Mrs. Hazeldene had meant to go there in the morning, but was prevented as Mr. Errington called.’

“ ‘Mr. Errington?’ asked the coroner casually. ‘Who is Mr. Errington?’

“But this Emma found difficult to explain. Mr. Errington was⁠—Mr. Errington, that’s all.

“ ‘Mr. Errington was a friend of the family. He lived in a flat in the Albert Mansions. He very often came to Addison Row, and generally stayed late.’

“Pressed still further with questions, Emma at last stated that latterly Mrs. Hazeldene had been to the theatre several times with Mr. Errington, and that on those nights the master looked very gloomy, and was very cross.

“Recalled, the young widower was strangely reticent. He gave forth his answers very grudgingly, and the coroner was evidently absolutely satisfied with himself at the marvellous way in which, after a quarter of an hour of firm yet very kind questionings, he had elicited from the witness what information he wanted.

“Mr. Errington was a friend of his wife. He was a gentleman of means, and seemed to have a great deal of time at his command. He himself did not particularly care about Mr. Errington, but he certainly had never made any observations to his wife on the subject.

“ ‘But who is Mr. Errington?’ repeated the coroner once more. ‘What does he do? What is his business or profession?’

“ ‘He has no business or profession.

“ ‘What is his occupation, then?

“He has no special occupation. He has ample private means. But he has a great and very absorbing hobby.”

“ ‘What is that?’

“ ‘He spends all his time in chemical experiments, and is, I believe, as an amateur, a very distinguished toxicologist.’ ”