Bea. (sits on sofa) Yes, but my husband has been ill some weeks. Miss Derwent had nothing to gain by his death until this will was made.
Sir P. (sitting R. of her) Therefore, she has not killed him. The process has been admirably timed. She began to compass his death when she had nothing to gain by it, and therefore was not open to suspicion; and on the point of its consummation, adroitly threw herself upon his generosity. You must admit the ingenuity of the scheme.
Bea. But the evidence?
Sir P. That is where you must help me. It is incomplete. But it is obvious enough, the criminal, whoever it is, is familiar with the properties of arsenic, which are not so simple as is commonly supposed. A bungler would have killed him long ago; but Miss Derwent is half a doctor. She was at Guy’s for years. She is a particular friend of Dr. Kennedy’s—and, strongest evidence of all, his book on toxicology is here—(rises, crosses to piano, takes book, and recrosses to back of sofa, R. of it) inscribed with her name—and has evidently been considerably studied. (gives book to Beatrice) Especially, one chapter.
Bea. Which is that?
Sir P. Open it.
Bea. “Arsenic”!
Sir P. Look at the title page.
Bea. “Kate Derwent—from her friend, the Author.”
Sir P. (takes book again) I submit that the case against her is one of the gravest suspicion (crosses to back of table, L. of it)