“Did they find any arsenic at the Thatched House?” she asked in a low voice.
“Nothing was said about that,” answered the clergyman slowly. “If any arsenic was found they have not chosen to bring the fact forward to-day. Of course what told terribly against Garlett was Maclean’s evidence.”
“Had he anything new to say?”
“Well, I don’t know that he had, exactly. But there was quite a sensation in the court when he revealed that Mrs. Garlett had taken a plateful of strawberries and sugar from Harry Garlett’s own hand a few hours before the poor soul died in agony! One could tell that according to Maclean’s theory the arsenic was administered in the white powdered sugar which seems to have been thickly sprinkled over the strawberries.”
“My strawberries!” exclaimed Miss Prince, as if speaking to herself, “my strawberries—alas!”
They both turned on her quickly.
“Your strawberries, Miss Prince? What do you mean?”
“Ever since I was a girl,” she answered, “I have grown a few forced strawberries each spring. I thought every one in Terriford knew that.”
There came a spot of colour into her sallow face. She had never presented the Cole-Wrights with a basket of her forced strawberries, and now she regretted the omission.
“Do you mean you grow them in pots in the house?” asked Mrs. Cole-Wright, a touch of sarcasm in her voice. She had no love of gardening—another peculiarity which tended to make her unpopular with her neighbours.