Tuesday, the sixteenth. Afternoon.

The unbosoming of Sister Marigold was almost an epic. Once the floodgates of her wrath were opened the spate of disclosure flowed turbulently. Alleyn decided that in the Marigold’s eye Banks was a murderess. Derek O’Callaghan’s nurse had told Sister Marigold of Banks’s triumph at the news of his death. The theatre scally had lost her head and told everybody. At first, prompted no doubt by her anxiety to stifle the breath of scandal in her hospital, Sister Marigold had determined to say as little as possible about the unspeakable Banks. Alleyn’s hints that Phillips, his assistants, even she herself, would come under suspicion had evidently decided her to speak. She now said that Banks was obviously an agent of Sir Derek’s political enemies. Alleyn let her talk and talk, and contrived to remain brilliantly non-committal. He discovered that she had an excellent memory and, by dint of careful questioning, he arrived at the procession of events during, and immediately before, the operation. It appeared that the only members of the party who had been alone in the theatre were Phillips, herself, Thoms, and possibly one of the nurses. Mr. Thoms, she thought, had come out of the theatre into the anteroom a few moments after Sir John had prepared his syringe. When she had told him everything two or three times over, Alleyn said that he was a brute to keep her so long and could he see the private nurse and the scally. He asked her not to mention the result of the post-mortem. The scally came first. She was alarmed and inclined to shy off his questions, but quietened down presently and stuck to her story of Banks’s indecent rejoicing. She said Banks was always dinning Soviet teaching into the other nurses. She added nervously that Banks was a good nurse and would never forget her duty to a patient. She described the impedimenta that was put out on a side table before the operation — a full bottle of hyoscine solution, an ampoule of anti-gas serum, syringes, a bowl of distilled water. She was quite sure the bottle of hyoscine solution had been full. She believed that a small amount had since been used. She hadn’t looked at it immediately after the operation. This tallied with information already given by the matron. The scally herself had put all the things away and had cleaned the outsides of all the jars carefully. Matron was so particular. “No use looking for prints on this job,” thought Alleyn with a sigh. He thanked her and let her go.

Nurse Graham, O’Callaghan’s special, was then sent into the room. She came in quietly, smiled at Alleyn and stood with her hands behind her back waiting. She had blue eyes, set far apart, a wide humorous mouth, slightly prominent teeth and a neat figure. She had an air of repose and efficiency which pleased the inspector.

“Do sit down, won’t you?” Alleyn invited her. She sat down comfortably and didn’t fidget.

“You nursed Sir Derek, didn’t you?” he began.

“Yes.”

“How long was it from the time he was admitted until the operation?”

“Nearly an hour, I think. He came in soon after I went on duty at five o’clock. The operation was at a quarter to six.”

“Yes. Look here, Nurse Graham, will you tell me the whole story of that hour as though you were writing it down in detail?”

She looked gravely at him for a moment or two. “I’ll try,” she said at last. Alleyn took out a notebook and with an uneasy glance at it she began: “Soon after I came on duty a message came up that he was on his way and I was to ‘special’ him. I met the stretcher, put him to bed, and prepared him for operation.”

“Did you give an injection of any sort?”

“No. The usual injection of morphia and atropine was not given. Sir John’s injection of hyoscine took its place.”

“I see. Well, nurse?”

“While that was being done Lady O’Callaghan and Sir Derek’s sister arrived, and when the preparation was over they went into his room. He was semi-conscious. Am I doing this properly?”

“Admirably. Please go on.”

“Well, let me think. I was in the room with them at first. Lady O’Callaghan was very good — quiet, and didn’t upset the patient. Miss O’Callaghan was rather distressed. They sat down by the bed. I went out to speak to Sir John. When I came back they were talking together. Sir Derek was lying with his eyes closed, but he opened them for a moment and groaned. I think he was conscious just then and he seemed very uncomfortable. Lady O’Callaghan came out and spoke for a minute to Sir John. Then we all returned and Sir John made an examination. The patient seemed much easier, but I thought that now he was quite unconscious, more deeply so than he had been since he came in. Sir John diagnosed ruptured appendix abscess and offered to get Mr. Somerset Black to operate immediately. Lady O’Callaghan begged him to do it himself and he finally said he would. I took Lady O’Callaghan and Miss O’Callaghan out.”

Nurse Graham paused and looked very earnestly at the inspector.

“Was there any further incident before they left the room?” Alleyn asked.

“You mean—? There was something else, but please, Inspector Alleyn, do not attach too much importance to it. The patient, I am sure, did not realise in the least what he said.”

“What did he say?”

“He opened his eyes and said ‘Don’t — don’t let— ’ and then relapsed again.”

“Did you get any idea of what he was trying to say?”

“It might have been anything.”

“At what was he looking?”

“He looked at Sir John, who was nearest the bed.”

“How would you describe his look? Appealing? Entreating? What?”

“N-no. He — he seemed frightened. It might have been anything. He looked rather like a patient who had been given a drug — morphia, for instance. It’s a kind of frowning stare — I have often noticed it appear when the drug is beginning to take effect.”

“And yet you tell me he had not had anything of the sort.”

“I gave him nothing,” Nurse Graham said.

“There’s a curious inflexion in your voice, nurse. You gave him nothing? Now of what are you thinking?”

She moved uneasily and her face became rather pink…

“I have said nothing about this to anybody,” she told him. “It seemed to me a dangerous thing to speak of what was — was — not absolute fact.”

“Quite right. Don’t you think, though, that you should tell me? Nurse Graham, Sir Derek O’Callaghan was murdered.” He watched her closely. She seemed both startled and shocked. She gave a quick look as if she hoped she had mistaken what he’d said. After a moment he went on:

“He was given a lethal dose of hyoscine. At least four people come under the possibility of suspicion. The very incident you are shying away from might be the one to save an innocent person. I am too old a hand to jump at asinine conclusions. Do you really think you can do any good by keeping me in the dark?”

“Perhaps not.”

“Let me help.you. You think, don’t you, that someone had given O’Callaghan something — a drug of some sort?”

“It looked like it, and yet it was too soon for a drug to act.”

“What happened when you returned to your patient? What did you find?”

“You are — very acute,” she said. “When I went back I tidied the room. The patient seemed to be asleep. I lifted his eyelid and he was quite unconscious. The pupil was not contracted. I knew then that he could not have had morphia. Then I saw under a chair by the bed a small piece of white paper. I picked it up and noticed that it had broken pieces of sealing-wax on it. It was certainly not there when Sir Derek was admitted.”

“Have you kept it?”

“I — yes, I have. I wondered then if he had been given anything, and when the room was done out I put the paper into a drawer in his dressing-table. It will still be there.”

“I’ll look at it later on if I may. Who had sat in the chair?”