Why this little incident should have stuck in my memory I can’t quite explain, except perhaps that it was the forerunner of so many similar little incidents between Kenneth and the doctor, but without opening his mouth he had made them both look like naughty children disobeying their nurse, and I think that it was about from this time that I began to suspect that, somehow, somewhere, there was something amiss with our party. Although we still continued to laugh and be jolly, I could not help feeling sensible that the pace was being forced, and that it was only by effort the ball was kept rolling.
I wondered whether it was due to the arrival of The Tundish, and if so why. Or whether it was due to the fact that my cold was making me feel depressed, and that while I was approaching the forties, the rest, with the exception of The Tundish himself, were all young and in their early twenties.
Chapter II.
The Chinese Poison
That evening the four younger members of our party went to a scratch gramophone dance and The Tundish and I were left to our own devices. He had tried to persuade them not to go on account of the heat, and had been particularly emphatic so far as Margaret was concerned. Stella did look a little fagged and pale, but my partner seemed in the best of spirits, and I could not understand why he should think that she especially required rest.
Supper was late, as they dressed before they had it, but they did get away at length, and we went into the dispensary to get some medicine for my cold. While he was measuring it out I wandered aimlessly round the room glancing at the bottles on the shelves. The labels were written in so neat a hand that I asked him who had done them.
“Oh, that is one of Miss Summerson’s jobs,” he replied.
“And does Miss Summerson deal with the high finance in addition to her other duties?” I asked, standing in front of what looked liked a heavy safe.
“That is the poison cupboard,” he laughed, and taking a small key from his waistcoat pocket he opened the door.
I was astonished at the number of bottles it contained. On the lower shelves were the larger ones which I assumed held the poisons more commonly used, but the top shelf was packed with diminutive bottles of uniform shape and size. There was one, however, that differed from the rest, and that was the most peculiar little bottle I have ever set my eyes on. It was like a miniature flagon of Burgundy in shape, but it had an exceptionally long and slender neck that was fitted with a large glass stopper of a flat irregular design, giving it the appearance of some delicate imitation toadstool rearing its head above its little neighbors.
“What an extraordinary number of poisons!” I exclaimed. “Surely all these are not the normal requirements of a country doctor’s practise?” And I took up the funny flagon as I spoke to examine it more closely.