“Two nips.”

“How large a quantity? Mr. William Pomeroy states that a bottle of Courvoisier ’87 was opened at Mr, Watchman’s request, and that the contents were served out to everyone but himself, Miss Darragh, and Miss Moore. That would mean a sixth of a bottle to each of the persons who took it?”

“Er — yes. Yes.”

“Had you finished your brandy when you threw the dart?”

“Yes.”

“Had you taken anything else previously?”

“A pint of beer,” said Legge unhappily.

“N-n-n-yes. Thank you. Now, where did you put the darts you used for this experiment?”

“They were new darts. Mr. Pomeroy opened the package and suggested—” Legge broke off and wetted his lips. “He suggested that I should christen the new darts,” he said.

“Did you take them from Mr. Pomeroy?”

“Yes. He fitted the flights while we played Round-the-Clock and then gave them to me for the experiment.”

“No one else handled them?”

“Mr. Will Pomeroy and Mr. Parish picked them up and looked at them.”

“I see. Now, for the sequel, Mr. Legge.”

But again Legge’s story followed the others. His deposition was read to him and he signed it, making rather a slow business of writing his name. The coroner called Abel Pomeroy.

ii

Abel seemed bewildered and nervous. His habitual cheerfulness had gone and he gazed at the coroner as at a recording angel of peculiar strictness. When they reached the incident of the brandy, Dr. Mordant asked Abel if he had opened the bottle. Abel said he had.

“And you served it, Mr. Pomeroy?”

“ ’Ess, sir.”

“Will you tell us from where you got the glasses and how much went into each glass?”

“ ’Ess, sir. I got glasses from cupboard under bar. They was the best glasses. Mr. Watchman said we would kill the bottle in two halves, sir. So I served half-bottle round. ’Twas about two fingers each. Us polished that off and then they played Round-the-Clock, sir, and then us polished off t’other half. ’Least, sir, I didn’t take my second tot. Tell the truth, sir, I hadn’t taken no more than a drop of my first round and that was enough for me. I’m not a great drinker,” said old Abel innocently, “and I mostly bides by beer. But I just took a drain to pleasure Mr. Watchman. I served out for the rest of the company ’cepting my Will and Miss Darragh and Miss Dessy — Miss Moore, sir. But I left fair drain in bottle.”

“Why did you do that?”

Abel rubbed his chin and glanced uncomfortably at the other witnesses.

“Seemed like they’d had enough, sir.”

“This was before the experiment with the deceased’s hand, of course,” said the ooroner to the jury. “Yes, Mr. Pomeroy? How much was in the glasses on the second round?”

“ ’Bout a finger and half, sir, I reckon.”

“Did you hand the drinks round yourself?”

Abel said: “I don’t rightly remember. Wait a bit, though. I reckon Mr. Watchman handed first round to everyone.” Abel looked anxiously at Will, who nodded. “ ’Ess, sir. That’s how ’twas.”

“You must not communicate with other persons, Mr. Pomeroy, before giving your answers,” said Dr. Mordant darkly. “And the second round?”

“Ah. I poured it out and left glasses on bar,” said Abel thoughtfully, “Company was fairly lively by then. There was a lot of talk. I reckon each man took his own, second round. Mr. Watchman carried his over to table by dart board.”

“Would you say that at this juncture the men who had taken brandy were sober?”

“Not to say sober, sir, and not to say proper drunk. Bosky-eyed, you might say, ’cepting old George Nark and he was proper soaked. ’Ess, he was drunk as a fish was George Nark.”

Two of the jury men laughed at this and several of the public. The coroner looked about him with an air of extreme distaste and silence set in immediately.

“Is it true,” said the coroner, “that you have been poisoning rats in your garage, Mr. Pomeroy?”

Old Abel turned very white and said, “Yes.”

“What did you use?”

“ ’Twas some stuff from chemist.”

“Yes. Did you purchase it personally?”

“No, sir. It was got for me.”

“By whom?”

“By Mr. Parish, sir. I axed him and he kindly fetched it. I would like to say, sir, that when he give it to me ’twas all sealed up, chemist-fashion.”

“N-n-n-yes. Do you know the nature of this poison?”

“I do believe, sir, it was in the nature of prussic acid. It’s not marked anything but poison.”

“Please tell the jury how you used this substance and when.”

Abel wetted his lips and repeated his story. He had used the rat-poison on Thursday evening, the evening of Watchman’s arrival. He had taken great care and used every precaution. A small vessel had been placed well inside the mouth of the rat-hole and some of the fluid poured into it. The hole was plugged up with rags and the bottle carefully corked. No waste drop of the fluid had escaped. Abel had worn old gloves which he afterwards threw on the fire. He had placed the bottle in a corner cupboard in the inglenook. It had stood alone on the shelf and the label POISON could be seen through the glass door. Everyone in the house was aware of the bottle and its contents.

“We have heard that the iodine was taken from a cupboard in the inglenook. Was this the same cupboard?”

“ ’Ess fay,” said Abel quickly, “but ’twasn’t same shelf, sir. ’Twas in a tin box in another shelf and with a different door, but same piece of furniture.”

“You fetched the iodine?”

“So I did, then, and it was snug and tight in first-aid tin, same as it always is. And, axing your pardon, sir, I used to dab of that same iodine on Bob Legge’s chin only that evening, and there the man is as fit as a flea to bear witness.”

“Quite. Thank you, Mr. Pomeroy. Call Bernard Noggins, chemist, of Illington.”

Mr. Bernard Noggins could have been called nothing else. His eyes watered, his face was pink, his mouth hung open, and he suffered from hay fever. He was elderly and vague, and he obviously went in great terror of the coroner. He was asked if he remembered Mr. Parish’s visit to his shop. He said he did.

“Mr. Parish asked you for a rat-poison?”

“Yes. Yes, he did.”

“What did you supply?”

“I — er — I had no proprietary rat-bane in stock,” began Mr. Noggins miserably, “and no arsenic. So I suggested that the fumes of a cyanide preparation might prove beneficial.”

“Might prove what?”

“Efficacious. I suggested Scheele’s acid.”

“You sold Mr. Parish Scheele’s acid?”

“Yes. No — I—actually — I diluted — I mean I added — I mean I produced a more concentrated solution by adding HCN. I — er — I supplied a fifty per cent solution. Yes.”

The coroner dropped his pen and gazed at Mr. Noggins, who went on in a great hurry:

“I warned Mr. Parish. He will agree I warned him most carefully and he signed the register — every formality and precaution — most particular. Full instructions. Label.”

The coroner said: “Why did you make this already lethal fluid so much more deadly?”

“Rats,” said Mr. Noggins. “I mean, Mr. Parish said it was for rats, and that Mr. Pomeroy had tried a commercial rat-bane without success. Mr. Parish suggested — suggested — I should—”

“Should what, Mr. Noggins?”

“That I should ginger it up a bit, as he put it.” Mr. Noggins, in the excess of his discomfort, uttered a mad little laugh. The coroner turned upon him a face sickly with disapprobation and told him he might stand down. Dr. Mordant then addressed the jury.

“I think, gentlemen, we have heard enough evidence as to fact and circumstance surrounding this affair and may now listen to the medical evidence. Dr. Shaw, if you please.”

Dr. Shaw swore himself in very briskly and, at the coroner’s invitation, described the body as it was when he first saw it. The coroner’s attitude of morbid introspection increased but he and Dr. Shaw seemed to understand each other pretty well.