“Yes, of course,” responded Stella, whose only recollection was of her mother stating that a doctor was quite unnecessary. She looked across the room to where Hannasyde stood, and met his searching gaze unflinchingly. “I didn't think it was in the least called-for.”
Hannasyde did not reply to her, but instead addressed her mother. “Mrs Matthews, this is quite useless. The fact remains that you did not send for a doctor, though it must surely have been obvious to a woman of your experience that your sister-in-law was very unwell indeed.”
Stella felt her mother's fingers tighten unconsciously on her own arm. “But it was not obvious!” Mrs Matthews said, in a low, unsteady voice. “I knew she felt sick, and I saw that she was a bad colour, but I put that down to acute indigestion. She never had what I call a really healthy colour, never!”
“Mrs Matthews, your sister-in-law must have felt other symptoms than these. Did she not complain to you of cramp, or a creeping in her arms, or even of extreme cold in her feet and hands?”
“I can't remember her mentioning anything beyond sickness and giddiness. She may have said she felt chilly, but I should expect that. I gave her a hot-water bottle.”
“And yet,” said Hannasyde, “when Miss Matthews passed the butler in the hall, on her way up to her room, he was struck by her appearance, and thought that she seemed to be out of breath, as though she had been running.”
“So he says!” Guy interpolated scornfully. “Servants will make up any tale to create a sensation!”
“If he made it up, Mr Matthews, it is an odd coincidence that the shortness of breath which he described should be one of the symptoms of nicotine poisoning. Did you not notice it, Mrs Matthews?”
“If I did I should only have thought it due to faintness,” replied Mrs Matthews.
“Your sister-in-law did not complain to you of feeling very ill?”