Antony had dropped Julia’s arm. Standing back, he seemed to loom up over her and Jimmy, very tall and bleak, brows drawn together in a frown. He said sharply,

“What did they ask you?”

“Something about Min giving me some aspirins.”

“When was that?”

“On Tuesday evening. I hadn’t slept-I felt as if I should go mad if I didn’t sleep. But she wouldn’t give me the morphia-she said it was dangerous. I didn’t care whether it was or not-I only wanted to sleep. But she took it away and gave me the aspirins instead. They didn’t make me sleep.”

Julia felt as if she was standing in ice-cold water. Antony said in a new, cutting voice,

“Minnie had morphia in her cupboard? You talked of it, handled it? Both of you? Do the police know this?”

Jimmy lifted vague, unhappy eyes.

“That girl Gladys Marsh was listening at the door. She told them.”

Antony ’s hand came down hard on his shoulder.

“Then you’ll have to rouse up and fight-if you don’t want to hang.”

The cold came up as high as Julia’s heart. She saw Jimmy’s face twitch. A deep flush came up in it, more distressing than the pallor had been. He said something inarticulate.

Antony went on harshly.

“Good God, Jimmy-can’t you see how you stand? It’s one thing after another. You have a serious breach with your wife, and within forty-eight hours she dies of morphia poisoning. Either she committed suicide, or one of three people poisoned her-Ellie-Minnie-you. No one else could have done it without running the risk of your getting the stuff instead. You keep on saying it can’t be suicide and wanting us to say so too. You come in for a lot of money under Lois’ will. And now you tell me the police have got a witness to the fact that you and Minnie were handling a bottle of morphia on Tuesday night. Wake up, man!”

Jimmy Latter seemed to steady himself. He said quite quietly,

“What can I do?”

Antony took his hand away.

“That’s better! Keep it up! You can stop being so sure it wasn’t suicide, to start with.”

“You said it wasn’t yourself-you said she wouldn’t. I’d give my right hand to be sure about that.”

Antony said, “I’ve been a fool-we all have. We’d better stop, especially you. The other thing you can do is to think- really think-about who shared out that coffee on Wednesday night. Julia took in the tray with two cups on it and put it down on the table. Minnie says they were still there when she came through. She says Lois was putting the sugar in. They both went out on to the terrace. Ellie came in next. She says she didn’t notice the cups. You came in and found her there. Then she went out to call Lois and Minnie. Now, Jimmy, think-think hard! Were those two cups still on the tray?”

Jimmy put up a finger and rubbed his nose.

“I don’t know-I don’t remember. I don’t believe I noticed them-I wasn’t thinking of things like coffee cups.”

“Well, there must have been a time when you began to think about them-at least about your own, because you picked it up and drank the coffee. You did, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I drank it. The cup was on the table by my chair.”

“You remember that. Well, how did it get there? And when did it get there?”

Jimmy shook his head.

“I don’t know. It was there and I drank it.”

“Was it there before the others came in from the terrace?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t go and sit down in my chair till after they all came in.”

“What were you doing?”

“I was over by the paper-table turning over the papers.”

“With your back to the room?”

“Yes-I suppose so.”

Antony said in an exasperated voice,

“Don’t you remember anything?”

“I remember that the coffee was on the table by my chair, and that I drank it. I don’t remember anything else.”

“You mean it was there when you eventually went to your chair and sat down?”

“I suppose it was.”

Antony controlled himself.

“You don’t remember?”

“I don’t remember anything, except that I drank the coffee. It’s no good badgering me. I wasn’t thinking about what was going on-I wasn’t noticing. I was trying to think what I was going to do-”

“Do?”

Jimmy nodded.

“About Lois. We couldn’t go on. I had to think-to make up my mind-”

Antony caught him by the arm.

“For God’s sake don’t say that sort of thing to the police!”

“Well, you asked me. That’s what I was thinking about. I didn’t notice anything until I picked up the cup, so it’s no use worrying me about how it got there.” He paused, ran a hand through his hair, and said with a kind of absent-minded irrelevance, “They’re having the inquest tomorrow afternoon-at the Bull.”

Some time in the afternoon Miss Silver again requested a few words with Julia Vane. She had, as a matter of fact, contrived to have a few words with several other members of the family either before or after lunch. She found Julia in the old schoolroom alone. Coming in with her knitting-bag on her arm, she closed the door and remarked brightly upon the pleasant view from the windows and the number of familiar books upon the shelves.

“Charlotte Yonge-how perfectly she recreated the mid-Victorian period. Lifelike in the extreme. No one has ever presented with such fidelity those large families which are now, alas, a thing of the past. Really most vivid. The Heir of Redclyffe is rather too sad, but the many tears which were shed for that poor young man are certainly a tribute to her art. I must own to a preference for a happy ending, but one cannot cavil when so much faith and courage are inculcated. One day I believe that Miss Yonge will be admitted as the equal of Trollope, if not his superior. Will you not sit down, Miss Vane?”

Julia did so. Since the day had to be got through somehow, it didn’t seem to matter very much whether she gazed idly from a window or discussed Victorian novelists with Miss Silver. Antony had taken Jimmy for a tramp. Ellie had gone over to see Ronnie Street. Minnie, she hoped, was lying down. She took the nearest chair and raised tragic eyes.

The preference which she had just expressed for happy endings induced Miss Silver to return the look with a very kind one.

“All this is very trying,” she said. “Pray do not think me unsympathetic if I ask you once more to tax your memory for some details about Wednesday evening.”

“I don’t think there is anything more to tell you.”

Miss Silver coughed.

“Perhaps not. In the course of my professional experience I have found that those nearest to a tragedy do almost invariably know more than they have told. Sometimes what they do not tell is held back of design because they are afraid that if it is told it will injure someone whom they love. Sometimes they do not realize that they have anything to tell. In the present case it is certain that some knowledge is being withheld. I do not say why it is being withheld, or who is withholding it. I do not know. But I am quite sure that here in this house, there are, let us say, scraps and fragments of knowledge which, brought together, would provide a solution of a tragic problem. I am going to ask you to let me have any such fragments as you may possess. Pray do not withhold anything because you are afraid. Fear is not a satisfactory motive.”

Julia’s eyes had remained fixed upon her: She said,

“I don’t think I am keeping anything back.”

Miss Silver had begun to knit.

“We will see. I am anxious to have as much information as possible about the state of Mrs. Latter’s mind on Wednesday evening.”

“I didn’t see her between lunch and supper.”

“Did she come straight down into the dining-room?”

“Yes. Ellie rang the bell and I came out of my room. Lois caught me up on the stairs and we went down together.”

“How did she seem? Depressed-nervous?”