An instrument is only discarded when its work is done and it would be dangerous to keep it.

What work?

The destruction of William Smith.

How?

Into that very bright light in her mind there came a single word. It was the word with which she had accounted to Abigail for the death of Emily Salt.

Cyanide.

Perhaps concealed in the stick of chocolate still clasped in her hand. Cyanide can be concealed in other things beside chocolate. Quick and clear came the picture of Abigail Salt telling her about the pot of apple honey. ‘A pot of my apple honey which I had set aside all ready to leave at my brother’s for William Smith and his wife.’

She turned upon Abigail.

‘Mrs. Salt, you missed a pot of apple honey.’

There was a look of surprise, a slight start. The words seemed so irrelevant, the occasion so trifling.

‘Yes.’

‘You told me that you had put it aside. Did you mean that it was packed up?’

‘Yes, I had done it up all ready to take.’

‘Was there any message enclosed?’

‘Just a line, “With kind regards – Abigail Salt.” Miss Silver – ’

Miss Silver was opening her bag. She took out a notebook, consulted it, found the telephone number she required, and dialled with steady fingers. When she heard the receiver lifted at the other end of the line she spoke. Her voice was steady too,

‘Mrs. Eversley?’

No one but herself was to know with what a feeling of thankfulness she heard Katharine’s voice say, ‘Yes.’

Chapter Thirty-eight

Sudden death has its own dreadful routine. Those who serve it came into Abigail Salt’s house and went about their business there without reference to her – Detective Sergeant Abbott, a police surgeon, a police photographer, a fingerprint man. Miss Silver sat with Abigail in the upstairs parlour whilst they were at their work. Presently Katharine joined them there. William was making a statement downstairs. They had put an outer covering right over the pot of apple honey and its contents and brought it with them. They had brought the little cut-glass dish heaped up with amber jelly, the two dead flies still lying on it.

Katharine was very white and still. She went over to Abigail Salt and took her hand.

‘I’m so sorry, Mrs. Salt – so dreadfully sorry. She couldn’t have known what she was doing.’

Abigail looked at her.

‘I put it out all ready to take round when I went to see Abel tomorrow. She must have taken it last night when I was at chapel. But I never thought – ’

‘You mean the apple honey? It was very good of you.’ An uncontrollable shudder went over her. She let go of Abigail’s hand, looked round for a chair, and sat down.

Abigail Salt said in a steady, expressionless voice,

‘I don’t suppose any of us will ever fancy it again.’

Katharine’s ungloved hands took hold of one another. She said very low,

‘William was late. I was vexed because he was so late, but it saved his life. We were going to have the apple honey for tea – I had put it out in a little glass dish. Then William came, and we talked. I saw there was a dead fly on the honey. Then we saw another one come down and settle.’ The shudder came back. ‘It just fell over dead. Then Miss Silver rang.’

Miss Silver coughed briskly.

‘A most providential escape, dear Mrs. Eversley. Let us be thankful for it.’

At this moment the door opened and Sergeant Abbott looked in. He caught Miss Silver’s eye and beckoned her. She went out.

‘Look here,’ he said, ‘the doctor seems pretty sure about its being cyanide. I gather that you know about this pot of apple honey the Eversleys have brought along. It seems to have killed two flies, and was probably intended to kill them. Emily Salt’s fingerprints are all over the wrappings and the pot. I don’t suppose there’s much doubt that she conveyed the parcel to Rasselas Mews. William Eversley says they found it on the doorstep on Sunday night when they got back from Ledstow. But there was a message from Mrs. Salt inside – ’ He paused and looked at Miss Silver.

She said in her firmest voice,

‘Yes, she was intending to leave it at the Toy Bazaar for them. She was having tea there with her brother tomorrow. It was all ready packed up.“

Frank lookedat her with his faint quizzical smile. ‘What a mine of information you are! But here is something that I can tell you, and I think you’ll be interested. I told you Donald was shadowing Miss Jones. You did a very good bit of work there, getting the Chief to agree to it.“

Miss Silver coughed.

‘I considered it of the very first importance.’

‘I think you were right. She went off down to Evendon with Cyril Eversley on Saturday afternoon. The village fairly buzzed with the news that they were married. Donald put up at the Duck and heard all about it. General verdict that Cyril had made a fool of himself. Sunday morning Donald hung about – saw the William Eversleys arrive – didn’t of course know who they were. Saw another young couple roll up. Cyril’s daughter and her husband, William tells me, though Donald wasn’t to know that either. And then in a brace of shakes out comes Mrs. Cyril Eversley in her brand new car, and Donald grabs his motor-bike and follows her all the way to her flat. That’s when he finds out that she’s been living there as Mrs. Woods. Well, he rings up and reports. Evans goes along to relieve him at about four o’clock. The lady hasn’t shown up, but it looks as if she’s going out again, because her car is still outside. She comes out about six and drives off. Evans follows her. She pulls up in Morden Road, just round the corner from Selby Street. A woman comes along with a parcel and gets in. Evans hears her say, “I’ve got it.” They drive off together, and Evans follows them to a cul-de-sac behind Rasselas Mews – only of course he’s not thinking about the Mews, because he’s been put on to watch Mrs. Cyril Eversley.’

‘Yes, Frank?’

‘Evans was puzzled. They just sit in the car. It’s a dark place, practically unlighted. He can’t make out what they’re doing. He strolls past once, and thinks they are opening a parcel. It doesn’t seem to be his business. Presently the passenger gets out and goes off round the corner with her parcel, and Mrs. Eversley goes home. She parks her car, and doesn’t show up again. Grey takes over at midnight. Nothing doing. Evans on again this morning. Mrs. Eversley doesn’t show up. Donald on again at four. I’ve asked them to contact him and telephone his report to me here.’

As he spoke, William Eversley came up the stairs and the telephone bell rang. William went into the parlour. Frank and Miss Silver went down to the ground floor room where the telephone was.

The body of Emily Salt was gone from the hall. A constable in uniform came out of the sitting-room and said, ‘For you, Sergeant.’

Frank crossed the floor and took up the receiver. Miss Silver, standing just inside the door, could hear the measured rise and fall of a deep male voice. It was, in her opinion, the voice of Chief Inspector Lamb, a circumstance which engaged her most interested attention.

Frank Abbot said, ‘Yes, sir.’ And then, ‘Not much doubt about its being cyanide.’ After a pause he said, ‘No, they’re all right. They had a narrow shave – a pot of poisoned honey. Holt’s taken it off for analysis… Yes, they’re here. It was a very narrow shave.’ Finally, after a considerable interval, ‘Well, that just about puts the lid on it!… All right, sir, we’re finishing here.’ He hung up and turned.

Miss Silver had closed the door. She said,

‘Well, Frank?’

‘That was the Chief.’

‘So I supposed.’

‘Could you hear what he was saying?’

Her glance reproved him.

‘I made no endeavour to do so.’

‘But you wouldn’t mind if I were to tell you?’

‘I should be very much interested.’