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BEHOLD,
HERE'S
POISON
A Mystery Serial
By Georgette Heyer
DEATH has struck sud-
denly at the Poplars,
country home of an
ill-assorted family,
consisting of GREG-
ORY MATTHEWS, its irascible
owner; MISS HARRIET MAT-
THEWS, his sister; MRS. ZOE
MATTHEWS, his sister-in-law; and
her two children, STELLA, and
GUY.
There had been more friction
than usual in the household lately,
as Gregory Matthews objected to
Stella's engagement to DR. DERYK
FIELDING, because the doctor's
father had died in an Inebriates'
Home, and had threatened to send
Guy to South America. Then one
morning Gregory is found dead in
bed.
Dr. Fielding was prepared to sign
a certificate of death from natural
causes, but the domineering MRS.
GERTRUDE LUPTON, sister of
Gregory Matthews and mother of
JANET and MRS. OWEN CREWE,
insists on a post-mortem.
While the household anxiously
awaits its outcome, GILES CAR-
RINGTON. Gregory Matthews'
lawyer, comes to the house and
reads the will. Its terms are bit-
terly disappointing to everyone ex-
cept the young cynic. RANDALL
MATTHEWS, Gregory's eldest
nephew, who has inherited the bulk
of the estate. Now read on:
While Giles Carrington, who was a
stranger to them, was present the
various members of the family had
for decency's sake to control their
feelings, but no sooner had he de-
parted than Mrs. Lupton set the ball
rolling by saying: "Well, no one need
think that I am in any way sur-
prised, for I am not. Gregory never
showed the faintest consideration for
anyone.
"Nor would it astonish me to learn
that you had a great deal to do with
the drawing-up of the will, Randall.
To refer to me as his beloved sister,
and then to leave me a portrait of
himself which I never admired and
do not want, makes me suspect
strongly that you had a finger in the
pie."
"Perhaps," said Stella, looking
him in the eye, "it was you who had
this bright notion of leaving me two
thousand pounds with strings tied
to it?"
"Darling, I wouldn't have left you
a penny," replied Randall lovingly.
"That would suit me just as well,"
said Stella. "I don't want his hate-
ful two thousand, and I wouldn't
touch it if I were starving!"
Agnes Crewe, who had come down
with her husband to hear the will
read, said: "I didn't expect uncle
to remember me in his will, but I
must admit that it does upset me to
think that baby is not even men-
tioned. After all, the mite is the
none Help
SANTRY
Illustrated by SANTRY
only representative of the third gen-
eration, and I do think uncle might
have left him something, even if it
were only quite a little thing."
Owen Crewe, a quiet man in the
late thirties, said pleasantly: "No
doubt he felt that my son was hardly
a member of the Matthews family,
my dear."
Agnes, as fair minded as her
mother, and with her sister's invin-
cible good nature, replied: "Well,
["I was not in the habit of spying on my brother," Miss
Matthews told the Superintendent, acidly.]
there is that, of course, but after
all, I'm a Matthews, and—"
"On the contrary, my dear," said
Owen, "you were a Lupton before
you married me."
Agnes gave her jolly laugh. "Oh,
you men! You always have an
answer to everything. Well, there's
no use crying over spilt milk, and I
shan't say another word about it."
"That is an excellent resolve my
dear, and one that I hope you won't
break more than three times a day,"
replied Owen gravely.
Henry Lupton, who had made no
contribution to the conversation till
now, suddenly said with a deprecat-
ing little laugh: "Blessed is he that
expecteth nothing."
"You may consider yourself
blessed if you choose," said his wife
severely. "I am far from looking
at it in that light. Gregory was
a thoroughly selfish man, though I
am sorry to have to say such a thing
of my own brother, and when I
think that but for me he would
be buried by now and no one a
penny the wiser as to the cause of
his death I am extremely sorry that
I did not wash my hands of the
whole affair."
"It seems to me that the whole will
is rottenly unfair!" exclaimed Guy
bitterly. "Why should Stella get
two thousand pounds and me noth-
ing? Why should Randall bone the
lot? He wasn't uncle's son any
more than I was!"
"It was because of my endearing
personality, little cousin," explained
Randall.
"No one—no one has as much
cause for complaint as I have!" said
Miss Matthews in a low, trembling
voice. "For years I've slaved to
make Gregory comfortable, and not
squander the housekeeping money
as others would have done, and what
is my reward? It was downright
wicked of him."
She rushed from the room as she
spoke, and Randall at once turned
to Mrs. Matthews, saying with an
air of great affability: "And what
has my dear Aunt Zoe to say?"
Mrs. Matthews rose nobly to the
occasion. She said with a faint,
world-weary smile: "I have nothing
to say, Randall. I have been trying
to forget all these earthly, unim-
portant things and to fix my mind
on the spiritual side of it all."
Henry Lupton, who thought her a
very sweet woman, looked round with
a touch of nervous defiance, and
said: "Well, I think we may say
that Zoe sets us all an example, don't
you?"
"Henry," said his wife awfully, "I
am ready to go home."
Mrs. Matthews maintained her air
of resignation, but when alone with
either or both of her children found
a good deal to say about the will.
"It is not that one wants anything
she told them, "but one misses the
thought for others. Consideration
for people's feelings means so much
in this dark world, as I hope you will
both of you remember always. I had
no claim on Gregory, though since I
was his brother's wife I daresay a lot
of people would disagree with me
on that point.
"As far as actual money goes I
expected nothing, but it would have
been such a comfort if there had
been some little sign to show that I
was not quite forgotten. I am afraid
poor Gregory—"
"Well, there is a sign," said Stella
bluntly. "You've got a half-share in
the house, and it isn't to cost you
anything to keep up."
"THAT was not
what I meant, dear," said Mrs. Mat-
thews, vague but repressive. "Poor
Gregory! I have nothing but the
kindest memories of him, but I am
afraid his was what I call an insen-
sitive nature. He never knew the
joy of giving. In some ways he
was curiously hard. Perhaps if he
had had more imagination—and yet
I don't know that it would have made
any difference. Sometimes I think
that he was brought up to be selfish
through and through. I was very
fond of him, but I don't think he
ever had a thought for anyone but
himself in all his life."
"He was rather a mean brute,"
agreed Stella.
"No, darling, you must never think
that," said her mother gently. "Try
only to look on the best side of
people. Your uncle had some very
sterling qualities, and it wasn't his
fault that he was hard, and selfish
and not always very kind to others.
We cannot help our natures, though
some of us do try."
"Well," said Stella, correctly divin-
ing the reason for these strictures on
her uncle's character, "one comfort
is that Aunt Harriet can't live for
ever."
"That kind of person nearly always
does," said Mrs. Matthews, forgetting
for the moment to be Christian.
"She'll go on and on, getting more
eccentric every day."
Stella laughed. "Cheer up,
Mummy! She's years older than you
are, anyway."
"I only wish that I had her
health," said Mrs. Matthews
gloomily. "Unfortunately, I've never
been strong, and I'm not likely to
get better at my age.
Please turn to page 46

Behold, Here's Poison

Continued from poge 4

"MY nerves are

not a thing I should ever expect
your aunt to sympathise with — I've
often noticed that people who are
never ill themselves have not the
faintest understanding of what it
means to be more or less always
seedy—but though I make a point of
never letting anyone guess how very
far from well I often feel, I do some-
times long for a little more consider-

ation."

It was evident that she was a
good deal moved, and Stella, who
had not before realised how confi-
dently she had expected to be left
in sole possession of the Poplars, did
what she could to console her. This
was not very much, since honesty
compelled her to admit that Miss
Harriet Matthews was an impossible
companion for anyone of Mrs. Mat-
thews' temperament.

As for Miss Matthews, she was
fast developing a tendency to behave
as though mortally injured when Mr.
Edward Rumbold and his wife provi-
dentially returned from Eastbourne,
where they had been staying during
the whole of the past week.

Miss Matthews was delighted. She
was genuinely attached to Edward
Rumbold, who always treated her
with courtesy, and never seemed to
be bored by her discursive conver-

sation.

Randall had once remarked that
Edward Rumbold seemed to have
been created especially to be a friend
of the family. It was certainly true
that Miss Matthews' woes were not
the only ones poured into his ears.
Mrs. Matthews, and Stella, and Guy
all took him in varying degrees into
their confidence, and if he found the
recital of other people's troubles
wearisome at least he was far too
well-mannered to show it.

He had of course seen the notice
of Gregory Matthews' death in the
papers, and came round to the
Poplars after his return on Saturday
to offer condolences and any help
that might be needed. Mrs. Rumbold
accompanied him, which was not

felt by the two elder ladies of the
house to be an advantage.

"One wonders what he saw in her,"
and "One wonders how she managed
to catch him" were expressions fre-
quently heard on Mrs. and Miss
Matthews' tongues, and they both
persisted, in spite of his evident
fondness for his wife, in pitying
him from the bottom of their hearts.

Actually it would have been hard
to have found a couple more quietly
devoted to each other than Edward
and Dorothy Rumbold. They took
little part in the social activities of
Grinley Heath, but spent a consider-
able portion of the year in travelling,
and always seemed to be content
with one another's company. Edward
Rumbold was a fine-looking man of
about fifty, with iron-grey hair, very
regular features, and a pair of steady,
far-seeing eyes.

His wife was less prepossessing, but
persons not so biased as Mrs. and
Miss Matthew had no difficulty in
perceiving wherein lay her attraction
for Edward Rumbold. "She must
have been awfully pretty when she
was young," said Stella.

She was still pretty in a kind light,
for she had large blue eyes, and a
retrousse nose which gave a piquancy
to her face. Unfortunately she was
a blonde who had faded quickly, and
she had sought to rejuvenate herself
by the not entirely felicitous uses of
hair-dye and rouge. Nature had in-
tended her, at the age of forty-seven,
to be grey-haired and plump, but art
and slimming exercises had given
her bronze locks and a sylph-like
silhouette.

Above all, however, she was kind,
and Stella and Guy liked her.

She sat beside Miss Matthews on
the sofa in the drawing-room when
she came with her husband to con-
dole, and said: "You poor dear! It
must have been a terrible shock. I
was ever so upset when I read it in
the paper. I couldn't believe it at
first, not till I saw the address, and

even then I couldn't seem to take it
in, could I, Ned?"

"It was surely quite unexpected?"
he said, his quiet voice in somewhat
striking contrast to his wife's shrill
tones.

This civil question had the effect
of causing Miss Matthews to break

into a torrent of words. Gregory
Matthews' constitution, his disregard
of his health, the duck he had
eaten at his last meal, Mrs. Lupton's
spite, and the scandal of a post-

mortem were all crammed higgledy-
piggledy into one speech. I

"I am exceedingly sorry! I had
no idea!" Mr. Rumbold said. "Of
course it must be most unpleasant

for you all."

"Why, whatever can have made
Mrs. Lupton go and say a thing like

that?" wondered Mrs. Rumbold.

"The idea that Gregory was
poisoned is merely absurd," said Mrs.

Matthews. "Of that I am con-
vinced."

"Yes, I daresay you are, but you
know very well Guy had been quar-
rolling with him, not to mention

Stella." Miss Matthews put in.

The effect of this speech was to
turn Mrs. Matthews from a Chris-
tian woman into something more
nearly resembling a tigress at bay.

"Perhaps you would like to ex-
plain what you mean by that, Har-
riet?" she said in a low, menacing

voice.

Miss Matthews quailed, as well
she might, and said tearfully that
she meant nothing at all.

"I'm sure," she added dismally,
groping in her pocket for her hand-
kerchief, "you needn't turn on me,
Zoe! Nobody could be fonder of Guy
than I am—and of Stella, too, of
course. I was only thinking how it
would look to an outsider."

Mrs. Matthews recovered her poise.
"Don't let us say any more about
it. You naturally cannot be ex-
pected to understand a mother's
feelings." She turned to Mrs. Rum-
bold, and said graciously: "And has
your stay at the seaside done you
good, Mrs. Rumbold?"

"Oh, I'm splendid, thanks!" re-
plied Mrs. Rumbold. "It was only
Ned who would have it I needed a
change of air."

MRS. MATTHEWS

smiled politely, but made no remark.
Miss Matthews, with a glance of
hatred cast in her direction, asked
Mr. Rumbold to come and look at
the plumbago, and bore him off in
triumph to the conservatory.

She was a keen horticulturist, and
soon became torn between a desire
to talk solely of her troubles and an
even stronger desire to compare notes
with him on the progress of their
respective rarities. She contrived in
the end to do both, but became some-
what muddled, and kept on handing
him earthy pots of flowers (which he
could have looked at just as easily
without having to hold them) with
a slightly inconsequent recommend-
ation to him to look at the way she's
behaving now, just as though she
owned the whole house!

He escaped from her presently on
the pretext of being obliged to go

and wash his hands, and went up-
stairs to do so only to fall a victim,
on his way down again, to Mrs.

Matthews, who was on the look-out
for him.

Later, Stella accompanied both the

visitors down the drive to the gate,
and said with a twinkle: "Did mother

tell you all her woes when Aunt
Harriet had finished telling you hers,
Mr. Rumbold?"

He laughed. "You're an irrever-

ent minx, Stella. She did tell me a

certain amount."

"Well, I hope you smoothed them
both down. They're rather on each

other's nerves. We all are."

"And I'm sure it's not to be won-
dered at," said Mrs. Rumbold kindly.

"But if I were you I'd try to put
this post-mortem right out of my
mind."

"Well, all I can say is I hope the
police don't come," said Stella.

"I don't suppose they will," said

Mr. Rumbold.

But at ten o'clock on Monday
morning Beecher went to the store-
room in search of Miss Matthews,
and in ominous silence held out a
silver tray with a visiting-card re-
posing on it.

The card bore the name of Detec-
tive-Superintendent Hannasyde, of
the Criminal Investigation Depart-
ment, New Scotland Yard.

Miss Matthews gave a startled
gasp, and dropped it as though it

were red-hot.

"I've shown them into the library,
miss," said Beecher.

There were three people to the
library. One was a middle-aged man
with grizzled hair and eyes deep-set
in a square, good-humored counten-
ance; the second was a thin man
with a clipped moustache, and a very
thin neck; the third was Dr. Field-
ing.

As Miss Matthews entered the
room, clinging to her nephew's arm,
the doctor stepped forward, and said
in a grave voice: "Miss Matthews, I
am sorry to say that things are more
serious than I had supposed. This
is Superintendent Hannasyde, of
Scotland Yard, and this," he added

indicating the man with the mous-
tache, "is Inspector Davis, from the
police station here."

Miss Matthews looked at the
Superintendent much as she might
have looked at a boa-constrictor, and
said good-morning in a frightened
whisper. The local inspector she
ignored.

"Good-morning," Hannasyde said
pleasantly. "Inspector Davis and I
have come to ask you one or two
questions about your brother's
death."

"You surely aren't going to tell us
that he really was poisoned?" ex-
claimed Guy. "I don't believe it!
Why on earth should anyone want to
poison him?"

Hannasyde glanced towards him.
"I don't know, Mr.—Matthews? That
is one of the things I've come to find
out."

"But it's incredible!" Guy declared.
"I'm afraid there's no doubt. Guy,"
interposed Fielding. "The analysts
discovered nicotine."

Guy blinked. "Nicotine? But he
didn't smoke!"

"So Dr. Fielding has been telling
me," replied Hannasyde.

Miss Matthews found her voice.
"Then it couldn't have been the
duck!" she said.

"The duck?" repeated Hannasyde
a little blankly.

"Yes, because if there had been
any poison in that we should all be
dead! And in any case I have the
bill for two lamb cutlets, and any-
one will tell you that they were
ordered for my brother, even though

he didn't eat them."

Please turn to page 48

Behold, Hores Poison

Continued from page 46

"MISS MATTHEWS

was afraid that the roast duck which
her brother ate that evening might,
have caused his death,'' explained

the doctor.

"I see," said Hannasyde. "No, it
could hardly have been the duck,
Miss Matthews. Can you remember
what else your brother ate or drank
on the night he died?"

She began to enumerate the dishes
which had appeared for dinner, but
he stopped her. "No, later than that,
Miss Matthews. Did he take any-
thing on going to bed? A glass of
hot milk, perhaps, or—"

"He couldn't bear it," said Miss
Matthews positively. "Often and
often I've begged him to try it, be-
cause he didn't sleep very well, but
he never would listen to advice, not
even when he was a little boy."

"Did he take anything at all for
his insomnia?" Hannasyde asked.

"Oh, it wasn't as bad as that!" said
Miss Matthews. "In fact, it's my
belief he slept a lot better than he
thought he did."

Hannasyde turned his head to-
wards the doctor, and raised his
brows in a mute question.

Fielding said: "I prescribed noth-
ing. He may occasionally have
taken aspirin. I don't know."

"No, that I'm sure he did not,"
said Miss Matthews. "He didn't
approve of drugs."

"Then between dinner and bed-
time he didn't, to your knowledge,
take anything at all? No drink or
any sort? A whisky and soda, for
instance, or—"

"Oh, that sort of thing!" said Miss
Matthews. "He often had a whisky
and soda about half an hour before
he went to bed. Not always, you
know, but quite often. We have a
tray brought into the drawing-room
at ten o'clock. I myself think it's
entirely unnecessary, and simply en-
courages young people to sit up late,
drinking and smoking, and wasting
the electricity."

"Do you remember if your brother

had a whisky and soda, or any other
kind of drink, on Tuesday evening?
Perhaps you can help me, Mr. Mat-

thews?"

"I was just trying to remember,"
said Guy. "I don't think—"

"Yes, he did," said Miss Matthews
suddenly. "Speaking to you re-
minded me of it, Guy. He had a
small whisky, and he said that when
he asked for a small one he didn't
mean he wanted it drowned in soda.
And you said the syphon was rather
'up.' Don't you remember?"

"Was that the night he died?"
asked Guy, frowning. "Yes, I be-

lieve it was."

"Did you pour out his drink for
him, Mr. Matthews?"

"Yes. I often did," Guy answered.
"At about what time did he have
the whisky?"

"Oh, I don't know! The usual
time, I think. Round about half
past ten."

"Do you know when he went up
to bed?"

"No, I was in the billiard-room
with my sister."

"My brother always went up to his

room at eleven, unless we had visi-

tors," said Miss Matthews. "We

were all brought up to keep regular
hours in my family, though I must
say Gregory used to waste a lot of
time pottering about his room be-
fore he got into bed."

"You don't know what he did after
he went upstairs, or when he actually
got into bed?"

Miss Matthews was inclined to be
affronted. "Certainly not! I was
not in the habit of spying on him!"

"I wasn't suggesting anything like
that, Miss Matthews," replied Han-
nasyde peaceably. "You might have
heard him moving about in his

room."

"Oh no, this house is very well
built, and, besides, my room isn't

next to his."

"I see. Who did sleep next to Mr.
Matthews?"

"Well, my sister-in-law, in a way,

but there's a bathroom in between,"
explained Miss Matthews.

Hannasyde looked at Guy. "At
what hour did you go up to bed, Mr.

Matthews?"

"Haven't an idea," said Guy care-
lessly. "Some time between half
past eleven and twelve, I should

think."

"Did you notice whether the light
was still on in your uncle's room?"

"No, I'm afraid I didn't. My
sister might know. She went up at

the same time."

"Yes, I should like to have a talk

with Miss—Miss Stella Matthews,"
nodded Hannasyde, consulting his
notebook. "And with Mrs. Mat-
thews too, if you please."

"My mother doesn't get up till
after breakfast, but I'll go and tell
her," volunteered Guy, and left the

room.

Mrs. Matthews was doing her hair
at the dressing-table when her son
knocked on the door. She smiled at
him as he came in, and said: "Well,
darling, not gone off to work yet?"

"No, and a darned good job, too!"
said Guy. "Haven't you heard?
There's a chap from Scotland Yard
downstairs, cross-examining every-
body!"

Mrs. Matthews' comb was stayed
in mid-air; in the mirror her eyes
met Guy's for one startled moment.
Then she put the comb down, and
turned in her chair to face him.
"Scotland Yard," she repeated. "That
means he was poisoned."

"Yes, something to do with nico-
tine. I never heard of poisoning
anybody with nicotine myself, but
that's what Fielding said. The
Superintendent's interviewing Aunt
Harriet now, and then he wants to
see you and Stella. He's already
asked Aunt Harriet and me a whole
lot of questions. Aunt was scared
out of her life at first, but person-
ally I found it rather amusing."

"What did your aunt say?" asked
Mrs. Matthews quickly.

"Oh, she drivelled on in her usual
style! Mostly irrelevant. Except
that she would insist on stressing

the fact that it was I who poured
out uncle's drink for him on the
night he died." He gave a little
laugh. "Actually it wouldn't be a
bad plan if someone tipped her the
wink not to talk so much. Given
time she'll tell the police all the
family details, down to what uncle
was like in the cradle."

Mrs. Matthews began to put up
her hair. "I'll go down at once. Run
along while I finish dressing, dear.
Oh, and Guy!—Find Stella, and tell
her I want her, will you? And just
remember, darling, that the less you
say the better. It isn't that there's
anything to conceal, but you and
Stella are inclined to let your tongues
run away with you, and you very
often give a totally wrong impres-
sion to people. I want you for all
our sakes to be careful what you
say."

"All right, all right!" Guy said.
"I'm not quite a fool, mother!"

He went downstairs again, and
found his sister in the hall, holding
a low-voiced conversation with Dr.
Fielding. They both looked up as
Guy rounded the bend in the stairs,
and he saw that Stella was rather
pale. "Mother wants you," he told
her. "Seen the giddy detective yet?"

"No. I'm scared stiff of him,"
Stella confessed.

"You needn't be, Stella; he's not
at all alarming," said the doctor
reassuringly.

"I shall go and blurt out some-
thing stupid. Policemen always
terrify me," said Stella with a ner-
vous laugh. "You know, in spite
of talking about it, and wondering
what would happen if uncle had
been poisoned, I never really
believed he had been, did you, Guy?
Deryk says it was nicotine, which,
as a matter of fact, I always thought
was the stuff you get in tobacco."

"Well, so it is," said Guy. "I
didn't know you could poison people
with it either. Is it often done,
Fielding?"

"No, I don't think so," replied the
doctor shortly.

Please turn to page 50

Behold, Here's Poison

Continued from page 48

"I SUPPOSE he
couldn't have taken it by accident,
could he?" suggested Stella hope-
fully.

The doctor shrugged. "I should
say, very unlikely."

"Well, but when could he have
swallowed it if not at dinner?"

"My dear girl, what's the use of
asking me? I don't know."

"You needn't be stuffy about it,"

said Stella mildly. "It's my belief

you know more than you pretend
about this nicotine stuff."

"Actually I know extremely little
about nicotine," answered Fielding.
"Sorry if that blights your faith in
me, but it is not the sort of poison
that comes in the way of general
practice."

"Jolly lucky for you," remarked
Guy. "I mean, if it had been an
ordinary sort of poison, like arsenic,
they might have suspected you."

"Why should they?" demanded
Stella fiercely. "There's no reason
to suspect Deryk!"

Fielding smiled. "Oh yes, there
is, Stella! Guy is quite right, and
I have no hesitation in freely
acknowledging it: it might easily
have looked as though I could have
done it, had the poison been one
you'd find in a doctor's poison-cup-
board. A great many people know
that I was not on good terms with
your uncle, and I imagine that all
the members of your family know
that he had threatened to—spread
an unpleasant scandal which would
in all probability have injured my
practice considerably."

"Yes, but we shan't say anything
about it, you know," said Guy, a
little awkwardly.

"I don't wish you to conceal it,
I assure you," replied Fielding
calmly. "If I am asked I shall
certainly tell the police the entire
story." He added with a slight
smile: "Nor do I imagine that Miss
Matthews will be as discreet as you
and Stella would be!"

In the library Miss Matthews was
proving the justice of this mistrust
of her. Having discovered that
Superintendent Hannasyde was a
sympathetic listener she had soon
lost her first dread of him. and had

told him any number of things
which her family would no doubt
have preferred her to have kept
hidden. She told him the whole
history of the duck; she told him
how disagreeable Gregory used to
be; and she complained bitterly to
him of the wicked unfairness of the
will.

"I did think," she said, "that after
the years I've lived with him my
brother would have had the common

decency to have left the house all
to me. But that's just the kind of
man he was. I'm sure it's no wonder
he was poisoned."

"You had lived with him a long
time, Miss Matthews?"

"Oh yes, ever since my mother
died, eighteen—or was it only seven-
teen? no, I'm sure it was eighteen
—years ago. Not that I ever wanted
to keep house for him; in fact, if
it hadn't been for my sister I would
much have preferred to work for my
living, because I never did get on
with Gregory, even when we were
children.

"But when you've looked forward
for years to having the house to
yourself one day, and then find
you've got to share it with the last
person in the world you'd choose—"

"The house is left to you, and to
someone else as well?"

"Yes, my sister-in-law," nodded
Miss Matthews. "Oh, I've no doubt
you'll think she's very sweet and
charming when you see her! People
do. But I know better. She's
pleasant enough on the surface,
but never in my life have I met
anyone, I don't care who it is,
who's more thoroughly selfish! That
woman," she said impressively, "will
go to any lengths to get her own
way. My one comfort is that what-
ever she chooses to say I know she's
just as disappointed in the will as
anyone else.

"I know very well that she
counted on being left the house, and
money, too, if the truth be told. And
if she tells you she's badly off, don't
you believe it! She's got quite
enough for one person; too much,
if you ask me! In fact, I should

have thought she could well have
given some money to Guy instead
of expecting his uncle to do it!"

"Guy?" repeated Hannasyde.
"That is the nephew who came in
with you a little while ago, isn't

it?"

"Yes," answered Miss Matthews.
"Such a nice boy! And I do hope
you won't listen to any spiteful tales
about him from my sister. Gregory

was extremely unkind to him, and
Guy had every reason to dislike him.
The idea of sending a boy like that
to South America! I shouldn't have
been in the least surprised if he
had poisoned his uncle.

"Not that he did, of course. I'm
quite sure he didn't, and if you
want to know I'd much rather think
it was Randall—my other nephew.
Only he wasn't here at the time, so
I'm afraid that's out of the ques-

tion."

Inspector Davis, who, had been
listening to this illuminating mono-
logue with a slightly dazed but
intent expression on his face made
a stifled sound, and put up his hand
to hide his mouth. But the super-
intendent, though there was a
twinkle at the back of his eyes, said
with perfect gravity: "Well, yes, at
first glance that does seem to rule
him out. And to what part of
South America was Mr. Matthews
proposing to send his nephew?"

Miss Matthews, who had seldom
(except for Edward Rumbold) met
with so encouraging an audience,
answered with the utmost readi-
ness: "Some place in Brazil; I
forget the name of it. So unsuit-

able! Guy doesn't like rubber at
all, and, besides, he's doing so well
at his work, which is really most
original—I mean the way he does it
—and you can't expect a new busi-
ness to make money right away, can
you?"

"No," agreed Hannasyde. "What
is his business, if I may ask?"

"Well, they call it interior decor-
ation, and, though I myself
shouldn't want a gilded ceiling and
black panels, I can quite understand
that tastes differ. But Gregory
never did have any patience with
Art, and besides, I don't think he
liked Guy, and I must say that Guy
was often needlessly rude to his
uncle, though at the same time
Gregory gave him plenty of excuse.

"Altogether things have been very
difficult, and though Gregory's
death hasn't done as much good as
one hoped it would, at least it has
put a stop to all the incessant quar-
relling and unpleasantness in the

house."

"That sounds as though others
besides Mr. Guy Matthews have
been at variance with your brother,"
said Hannasyde, smiling.

"I should call it being at daggers

drawn!" said Miss Matthews can-
didly. "Most unfortunately my
niece, Stella, wants to marry Dr.
Fielding, and I need hardly say that
Gregory had taken one of his un-
reasonable dislikes to the poor man

As though anyone could be blamed

for what his father did!

"Not that I should mention any
of that, and I'm not going to, for
I was thoroughly ashamed of my
brother's behaviour, and what is
more I told him that to my mind it
was nothing less than blackmail!
But it's something I prefer not to
talk about, so I beg you won't ask me
any questions about it."

"I quite understand," said Han-
nasyde. "It must have been very
trying both for you and for Mrs.
Matthews. I hope for your niece's
sake she does not also oppose the
marriage?"

Miss Matthews gave a sniff. "I'm
sure I don't know what her views
are, for I never believe a word she
says. Besides, if she cares for any-
one but herself it's for Guy, not for
Stella. As a matter of fact, I was
agreeably surprised in her over the
South American business at first. I
didn't know she had so much feeling
and I certainly didn't expect her
to quarrel with my brother about

it.

"At one time I thought it was
really going to come to a breach
between her and Gregory, but the
instant she realised she couldn't
force Gregory an inch she turned
completely round, and butter
wouldn't have melted in her mouth.
My sister Gertrude was right—not
that I've any desire to quote Ger-
trude, because I consider she's
behaved most unkindly to me, call-
ing me a bad housekeeper, and I

don't know what besides!

"It just serves her right that
Gregory only left her a picture of
himself and a small legacy, and for
my part I call it a judgment, and I
only hope that it will teach her a
lesson, and that in future she won't
go about demanding post-mortems
right and left!"

The inspector stiffened suddenly,
and shot a look at Hannasyde.
Hannasyde very slightly frowned, but
he was watching Miss Matthews
closely as he asked: "Was it your
sister who put the matter into ths
Coroner's hands, Miss Matthews?"

"Well, actually it was Dr. Field-
ing who rang up the Coroner," said
Miss Matthews. "But he never
would have done so if it hadn't been
for Gertrude. He didn't suspect
poison at all; in fact, he was very
much against a post-mortem, but
that's Gertrude all over! She always
wants to interfere. She made an
absurd fuss, and of course the doctor
had to give way about it, and I
should like to know what good it's

done?

"I mean, if Gregory's dead he's
dead, and we can only be thank—
well, perhaps not quite that, but you

know what I mean."

"Perfectly," said the Superinten-
dent. "I wonder if you would be
so kind as to find out if Dr. Field-
ing is still in the house? If he is,
I should like to have a word with

him."

Miss Matthews was a little disap-
pointed at having her talk cut short,
but she acquiesced with a fairly
good grace, and went off to find the
doctor. As he was still chatting to
Stella in the hall this was not diffi-
cult, and the Inspector had had no
time to say more than: "That's
something we didn't know, anyway,"
when he entered the library.

To be continued

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