“Why?”

“Mr. Latter was crying-he was reelly-down on his knees with his head in Miss Mercer’s lap.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I looked round the door. They was a great deal too taken up with themselves to notice if I’d come right into the room, but I just took a look and back again, and there was Miss Mercer in the little low easy chair, and Mr. Latter down on his knees with his head in her lap, and her stroking his hair and saying, ‘My poor Jimmy!’ ” Gladys sniffed virtuously. “And I thought to myself, ‘How’s that for goings on!’ ”

Miss Silver looked across her clicking needles and said in a repressive voice,

“You are doubtless aware, Chief Inspector, that Mr. Latter and Miss Mercer were brought up together like brother and sister.”

He said, “Yes, yes,” and put up a hand for silence. “Go on, Mrs. Marsh.”

“He went on crying for a bit, just like a big baby. And then he said all of a sudden, ‘I’ve got to sleep. I’ll go mad if I don’t-or I’ll do something I’ll be sorry for. You’ve got to give me something to make me sleep. What have you got?’ I took another look round the door, and he’d gone over to the medicine-cupboard she had in her room-the police took it away, but it used to hang right over the middle of the bookcase. He’d got the door open, and I saw him take a bottle out and look at it.”

“What kind of a bottle?”

“One of those flat ones with a screw top. He said, ‘This’ll make me sleep,’ and Miss Mercer come up to him and took it away. She said, ‘Oh, no-that’s morphia. You mustn’t have that-it’s dangerous.’ And he said, ‘As long as I sleep, I don’t care if I never wake up again.’ ”

“Sure he said that?”

She nodded.

“Of course I’m sure! I heard it, didn’t I?”

“Go on.”

“Miss Mercer put the bottle back. She said something about it oughtn’t to be where it was. Seemed she thought she’d put it away out of sight. She took out another bottle and tipped something out into her hand. She gave it to Mr. Latter and said, ‘Take these when you go to bed. They won’t do you any harm.’ And he said, ‘All the harm’s done, Min.’ And I come away, because it looked like he was getting ready to go.”

Miss Silver gave a short dry cough. She addressed Gladys Marsh.

“Mrs. Latter came down to the evening meal, I believe.”

Without troubling to look at her Gladys said,

“Yes, she did.”

“Did you go back into her room to help her dress?”

“What if I did?”

“Nothing at all, Mrs. Marsh-I should merely like to know.”

Gladys was inspecting a row of scarlet fingernails. With scant attention and no attempt at politeness, she said languidly,

“Well then, I did.”

“And did you acquaint her with what you had overheard?”

Gladys threw up her head with a jerk and enquired of the Chief Inspector,

“Look here-who’s she anyway? I don’t have to answer her, do I?”

His voice was grim as he told her,

“You don’t have to answer anyone-not till you come before the Coroner. But if you haven’t done anything wrong, what’s your objection? It’s a simple question enough. Perhaps you’ll answer me if I put it to you. Did you tell Mrs. Latter what you had overheard?”

She rolled her eyes at him.

“What do you think?”

“I think you did.”

“Clever-aren’t you?”

He went on as if she had not spoken.

“But I’d like to hear whether you did or not. Come along- out with it!”

Her hair had fallen forward again. She tossed it back.

“Well, of course I did! That’s what I listened for, wasn’t it?”

Lamb said,

“That’s what you said. So you told Mrs. Latter there was a bottle of morphia tablets in Miss Mercer’s room-you did mention that?”

Gladys looked sulky.

“I told her what I heard and saw, same as I told you.”

“You mentioned the morphia?”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at. Of course I did!”

Lamb was silent for a moment. Then he said,

“Sure you’ve told us all you heard and saw?”

“Isn’t it enough for you?”

“I’m asking you whether you’ve told us all you heard and saw.”

“I saw Mr. Latter with the morphia bottle in his hand, and I heard Miss Mercer tell him the stuff was dangerous. That’s something, isn’t it?”

He said, “Yes-that’s something.”

All right,” said Lamb-“you can go. Sergeant Abbott will type out your statement and you can sign it presently. It may be important, or it may not-it depends on what other people have to say. You’ve done right in making it, but I’m warning you to keep your mouth shut, or you may find you’re in trouble. You mustn’t go about saying you can put ropes round people’s necks, you know.”

Gladys tipped her chair back and got up. As she passed Frank Abbott she contrived to brush against him. She seemed to stumble. Her hand caught at his shoulder, and a long flop of yellow hair fell down and tickled his cheek. He became disgustedly aware that it wanted washing. Something in his expression, something in the way he handed her off, brought the blood to her cheeks. She gave him a stabbing look and rounded on Lamb.

“I’m to hold my tongue, am I? So you can hush it up, I wouldn’t wonder! If it had been me, there wouldn’t have been any hushing up! But because it’s Mr. Latter of Latter End nobody’s to let on he poisoned his wife! And I’ll tell you all something-Mrs. Latter was a very good friend to me, and you can’t shut my mouth! I’ve got my rights like other people!” She reached the door, jerked it open, and turned on the threshold to deliver a final volley. “My tongue’s my own and I’ll say what I like with it-so there!”

The door banged. The Chief Inspector pursed his lips in a soundless whistle. Frank Abbott took out an immaculate handkerchief and wiped his cheek. Miss Silver continued to knit.

Lamb spoke first. He said,

“There’s times when it cramps you, being a police officer- there’s no doubt about that.”

Frank crumpled the handkerchief and put it back in his pocket.

“A few branding-irons and things, Chief? You know, somehow I don’t feel you’d really be at home in a torture chamber.”

Lamb fixed him with an awful eye, and then relaxed.

“What she wants is a good smacking,” he said. “Pity somebody didn’t do it for her when she was a kid.”

Miss Silver coughed.

“An exceedingly badly brought up young woman. As Lord Tennyson so truly says, ‘The tongue is a fire.’ But she will make a good witness, Chief Inspector.”

He slewed round in his chair.

“In what way?”

Derek’s sock revolved briskly.

“She is intelligent and, I think, accurate. Perhaps sharp would be a better word than intelligent. When you very kindly afforded me the opportunity of reading the statements which have been made, I was a good deal struck by her account of the scene in Mr. Antony Latter’s room on the Monday night. It was clear, vivid, and so accurate that neither Mr. Antony nor Mr. Jimmy Latter have challenged it in any respect. This argues a gift of aural memory which is not very common. In listening to her just now, I was confirmed in my opinion. Her evidence was, of course, tinged with spite, but it was presented very clearly, and the essential points were stressed. I should be very much surprised if her account of what took place in Miss Mercer’s room is not perfectly correct.”

Frank Abbott was looking at her with a good deal of attention. The Chief Inspector let his hand fall heavily upon his knee.

“Looks bad for your client, Miss Silver. She’ll go into the box and swear he knew where he could lay his hands on a dangerous dose of morphia. I agree she’ll make a good show there-always provided there aren’t too many women on the jury-the way she rolls her eyes won’t do her any good with them. No-it doesn’t look too good for Mr. Jimmy Latter.”

Miss Silver coughed.