“We shall be more private here,” he said, inviting them with a gesture to take chairs. “One of my assistants will be back shortly, and I take it that your business is likely to be confidential.”
The Inspector agreed with a nod.
“It's a poisoning case and we'll need some help in detecting the poison.”
“That's a bit vague,” Markfield commented with a smile. “There are so many kinds of poisons, you know. If it's arsenic or anything of that sort, a first-year student could spot it for you; but if it's one of the organic lot, it'll be a stiff business most likely.”
“It looks like one of the mydriatic alkaloids,” Sir Clinton put in. “Atropine, or something akin to it. The eye-pupils of the body were dilated.”
Markfield considered for a moment.
“I've done some alkaloid work in my time,” he explained, “but I suppose in a case of this kind you ought to have the best man. Some of the alkaloids are the very devil to spot when you've only a small quantity. I'd like the fee for the case, of course,” he added with a faint smile, “but the truth is that Dr. Silverdale, my chief, is an alkaloid specialist. He's worked on them for years, and he could give me points all along the line. I'll take you along to his room now.”
He rose from his chair, but a gesture from Flamborough arrested him.
“I'm afraid that would hardly do, Dr. Markfield. As a matter of fact, it's Mrs. Silverdale's death that we're inquiring into!”
Markfield could not repress an exclamation at the Inspector's statement.