Miss Matthews' room, at first glance, told them nothing. The Superintendent got rid of Beecher, and shut the door. “If she was poisoned the stuff may have been put into her early-morning tea,” he said. “Apparently the tray was left on that table outside for a few minutes while the housemaid took young Matthews' tray to his room. Or it may have been given in the medicine Mrs Matthews gave the unfortunate woman. That presupposes that she felt unwell this morning from purely natural causes, of course.”
The Sergeant pursed his mouth. “It's what I'd call an audacious sort of a crime, Chief. If it's more of this nicotine it looks like the same person at work. Well, I have known people get away with one clever murder, and think themselves so smart they can get away with another, but to go and commit the second murder before the police have finished with the first strikes me as being fair madness! What's more, if this turns out to be murder there's only Mrs Matthews could have done it, as far as I can see. How's she taking it?”
“She's upset. But the woman's such a mass of insincerity it's very hard to know what to make of her.”
“That's where psychology comes in,” said the Sergeant.
“I'm looking for motive, thanks. She had one for murdering Gregory Matthews, but to poison a woman because you want her share of the house seems too thin.”
“I don't know,” said the Sergeant ruminatingly. “Some of the nastiest murders we've handled were committed because of some reason no one in their senses would think big enough. But what I'd like to know, Chief, is where our precious Hyde fits in now?”
Hannasyde shook his head. “It's beyond me. Perhaps he doesn't; perhaps we've been wasting our time looking for him.” He glanced round the room. “Hemingway, I want every conceivable thing poison could have been put into. Collect them, will you? Pills, and medicines, and face-creams, and lotions.”
“Right!” said the Sergeant briskly. “But we don't know that it was poison yet, do we?”
“You heard what Fielding had to say. He's seen one case of nicotine poisoning, and he thinks this is another.”
“Well, if he's right there's someone pretty ruthless at work,” remarked the Sergeant. “And what's more it hasn't made the case any easier. Of course, if it was Mrs Matthews the thing straightens out at once, but it knocks out Hyde, and it knocks out young Randall. And somehow, Chief, that doesn't satisfy me. Hyde's a blinking mystery, and I'm naturally suspicious of mysteries; and young Randall's hiding something.” He had walked over to the washstand, and was inspecting a bottle of mouthwash. “But why did either of them want to do in a harmless old body like Miss Matthews? It doesn't make sense. What about this gargle? Do you want it?”