‘Well, file it away. It doesn’t make sense now but if we dig a bit further something else may explain it later. Now, let’s have a look at those… Right. Now, there may be nothing to see but if I were doing this properly this is where I’d start. I hope you’re not squeamish. This may be rather disconcerting for someone untrained.’
‘I don’t faint easy. Carry on.’
Methodically Joe spread each garment out and inspected every inch. He gave a commentary as he went, becoming less sensitive to Lily’s presence as she remained quiet and helpful. ‘Waistcoat. Dried vomit, ponding around the right side of the neck. Pity we can’t analyse this.’
Lily wrinkled her nose in disgust. ‘Aw, jiminy! That smell!’ she commented. ‘Takes me back to children’s parties!’
‘Children’s parties! Takes me back to closing time on any Saturday night in Seven Dials!’ Joe broke off in sudden puzzlement. ‘Or does it?’
‘Urgh! There’s bits in it!’ said Lily.
‘And you’d expect that if he did indeed die at the time Grace suggests,’ said Joe in deeper puzzlement. ‘You are perfectly sure of your timing, Lily?’
‘Sure! Look, I’ve told you the exact truth with the exact timing and that’s your base. That’s where you start and everything else is hogwash!’
‘Mm… Very well. Trousers… perfectly clean. And that’s odd.’
‘Odd? Why odd?’
‘Arsenical poisoning is normally accompanied by diarrhoea. I’ve only encountered one case of arsenical poisoning.’ Joe frowned. ‘A wife had polished off her violent husband but it had taken her six months to do it. I’m afraid I just can’t believe that anyone would die from eating a pheasant that’s swallowed the stuff. But then, out here in the wilderness, how would we find out? Have to try other methods. I’m rather surprised Grace went along with the arsenic theory… And what was that other theory she had? The andro-what’s-it poison? Does that sound likely? Anyway, let’s have a look at his shirt. Same vomit staining though less copious.’
‘Joe, look at this,’ said Lily.
Gingerly she held up the cuff of the wide-sleeved cotton shirt that hung over the table on her side. The right sleeve. Joe took hold of it and looked. He slipped a magnifying glass from his pocket and looked again, then passed it to Lily.
‘Rose thorns? This is what he was wearing when he went for his swim. Could he have torn it on the bushes?’
‘I don’t think these are the tears of rose thorns,’ he went on. ‘The holes are too big. And look at the shape. There are two of them and they’re sort of… rounded at the puncture point and torn downwards. Look, if he held his arm like this,’ Joe held the sleeve at an angle horizontal to the ground, ‘then the tearing, the drag, would be vertical.’
‘The holes are very small,’ said Lily, ‘and very close together. Puncture holes? Oh, my God!’ She shuddered and dropped the cuff she had been holding. ‘A snake! You’re not going to tell me he’s been attacked by a snake? Oh, why didn’t anyone think of that? Cobras are always slithering in through the holes in the bathroom wall. He could have got back to his room, entered the bathroom and… I can’t bear to think of it! Poor, poor Zeman! How long does it take you to die of a cobra bite?’
‘Anything from fifteen minutes upwards, depending on the constitution of the victim. But, no, this wasn’t a snake,’ said Joe.
Lily looked again thoughtfully at the shirt, folded it carefully and replaced it on the pile. ‘Were there any scratches on his arm? Did you get a close enough look at the body, Joe?’
‘Yes, I did. There were no wounds of any kind except for the blow to the head he received when he fell against the stairs.’ He explained the findings of the autopsy.
The remainder of the items including the turban were examined and produced nothing further of interest. Joe looked carefully at the dagger that Zeman had carried always in his belt. He held it in his hand for a moment, admiring the restrained jewelled decoration on the sheath, and then delicately slid out the blade. Lily could not hold back a shudder at the sight of the purposeful weapon revealed. Sumptuous and valuable, certainly, but this was no toy, no ornament. The stubby hilt was of carved black jade, encircled with rows of rubies which gleamed like drops of blood, the curved blade appeared black also, of damascened steel and decorated with a filigree pattern of gold in the shape of a tear drop. Joe took out his handkerchief and gently ran it along the midrib of the blade. He examined it carefully. There was no trace of blood, no residue of any kind. The revolver also was innocent of recent use.
‘Right,’ said Joe. ‘That’s all we can achieve here, I think.’ He grinned. ‘Now let’s go and lean on the villain who attacked Zeman last night, shall we?’
Chapter Eight
They approached the guest wing silently. They were anxious not to alert their suspect lest he should abscond before Joe had the chance to put him to the question.
Joe assumed a copper’s voice. ‘You cover the outer door, Lily, while I see if he’s in there.’
He padded forward, ‘ ’ullo, ’ullo, ’ullo. Anyone at ’ome? You’d better come quietly. That way no one gets hurt.’
‘We’ve got you surrounded!’ added Lily excitedly.
Minto emerged from his kennel. His hackles were up. His teeth were bared.
‘I think he’s going to resist arrest!’ said Lily.
Joe put his hands on his hips and looked menacingly down. ‘Would you mind telling me, sir, exactly where you were at 1 a.m.? Or would you prefer to come down to the station and answer a few questions there?’
Minto unleashed a throaty growl.
‘How rude!’ said Lily. ‘I can’t believe he said that!’
‘Just keep your teeth bared for a moment, would you, sir?’ said Joe. ‘Well, Lily, what do you think? Is this our man?’
‘Well, we could send for his dental records or you could offer up your arm for testing purposes but I don’t think there’s any need. It’s right there – one inch from canine to canine. Less than one and a half anyway.’
‘Thank you, sir. That’ll be all for the moment. We’re releasing you on police bail. Don’t leave town without notifying me.’
They stood for a moment looking at the bleak staircase where they pictured Zeman dying his lonely and agonizing death. ‘Poison – the coward’s weapon, they say,’ Joe thought, and doubly despicable for Zeman, forbidden by tribal custom to declare his sickness or seek help before it was too late. He stood for a moment and traced the damp patches on the floor and stairs, cleaned now and smelling faintly of carbolic and marking Zeman’s last desperate steps. And to be attacked, held back by the sleeve, in extremis, by that awful little dog was a note of near farce beyond contemplation.
Bleakly, Lily’s thoughts had been echoing his. ‘Dreadful, pointless death,’ she said and then, after a pause, ‘But there is something wrong here, Joe, isn’t there? The dog – what’s his name?’
‘Minto. Named after the last Viceroy but three, I believe. Lord Minto.’
‘Right. Well, does His Lordship only attack men?’
‘No idea. Why do you ask?’
‘When I came down at midnight I had to pass his kennel. He didn’t come out. Oh, he was in there all right – I heard him growl but that’s all and when I came back in at about one he didn’t even bother to growl. Although, I was so upset I mightn’t have noticed.’
‘Perhaps he’d gone out for a midnight stroll too,’ said Joe. ‘He’s not tied up after all and his kennel’s right by the entrance.’
‘But you heard just now the noise he makes when he’s disturbed. It would have echoed up this stairwell. Now you’ll have noticed – I certainly have because I was creeping about last night – that you can’t hear a thing between rooms. The walls are thick adobe. But you can hear things happening on the stairs and corridor. I was still awake. It took me a while to sleep because I really was feeling hurt and angry. I might have heard the noise if he’d attacked Zeman but I’ll tell you who would certainly have heard it!’