She began to enumerate the dishes which had appeared for dinner, but he stopped her. “No, later than that, Miss Matthews. Did he take anything on going to bed? A cup of Ovaltine, perhaps, or—”
“He couldn't bear anything with malt in it,” said Miss Matthews positively. “Often and often I've begged him to try it, because 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 towards the doctor, and raised his brows in a mute question.
Fielding said: “I prescribed nothing. 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 bedtime he didn't, to your knowledge, take anything at all? No drink of any sort? A whiskey-and-soda, for instance, or—”
“Oh, that sort of thing!” said Miss Matthews. “He often had a whiskey-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 encourages young people to sit up late, drinking and smoking, and wasting the electricity.”
“Do you remember if your brother had a whiskey-and-soda, or any other kind of drink, on Tuesday evening? Perhaps you can help me, Mr Matthews?”