“The doctor says not, and there is no mark of any wedding-ring.”
“What colour are her eyes?”
“Very dark blue.”
“Ah, that’s funny again! So were the eyes of Miss Alvarez, and she was a Spaniard. When’s the inquest?”
“To-morrow, at eleven.”
“I shall be there. What’s the poison?”
“Prussic acid, so the doctor says. He said he could plainly smell it in her mouth when he came.”
Tempest moved to the side of the bed and leant over the face. The faint odour of almonds was still perceptible.
“Yes, I can smell it myself. There won’t be much mystery about the manner of death.”
Tempest stayed until the body was removed, and wondered at the reverence with which it was handled by men who must have long been accustomed to death and callous at its manifestations, and then, saying good night to Parkyns, he left. As he did so he turned back. “I say, Parkyns, tell Yardley about it, and send word I’d particularly like him to come to the inquest, if he can manage it, as I think it will be an interesting case. There’s more here than there looks at first sight.”