Too Many Cousins
Because the police will come to you.”“To me?” said the chemist in a horrified tone.
“Yes. Their attention has also been drawn to this halving of your cousinry in six months. Inquiries will naturally be first addressed to the survivors who benefit by these deaths.”
“Good heavens!” said Mortimer Shearsby, blinking and looking rather wildly at his wife.
Mrs. Shearsby was sitting very upright in her chair. She ground out her cigarette in an ashtray. Her pale eyes for once were still behind her pince-nez as they met Mr. Tuke’s.
“Well, I can tell the police a thing or two,” she said. “I can tell them where to look. . . . ”
His black brows raised a little, Harvey waited with interest for more, but the chemist turned on his wife with an unexpected exercise of authority.
“Be more careful what you say, Lilian! I warned you before. I will not have you making these random accusations. They may get about. Think of my position. If you are prepared to face an action for slander, I am not.”
Lilian Shearsby met his frown mutinously. Patches of colour burnt beneath her make-up. Her hands, from which she had stripped her gloves, disclosing a number of rings, were clenched on her lap till the knuckles whitened. The pince-nez glittered as she glanced quickly at Harvey. Her emotions, whatever their cause, hardened and altered her features; and, like her husband, she seemed suddenly less commonplace. Mortimer Shearsby, his head thrust forward, his lower lip drawn in to show his teeth, looked indeed rather like an angry sheep, but his dominating tone was very different from his earlier fussy pomposities. There was a revealing quality in both these displays of temper which the cynically interested onlooker found most instructive.
“Oh, very well,” Mrs. Shearsby said, rather sulkily.
“This is a serious matter,” the chemist went on, more persuasively. “We must be discreet, my dear.”
She shrugged. She was still ruffled and petulant. Mr. Tuke was glancing at his watch.
“Let us have a few facts,” he said. “What do you know about your sister’s death, Mr. Shearsby?”
“A most inexplicable affair,” Mortimer Shearsby replied, resuming his normal style. “I was informed at once, on the Tuesday after the Bank Holiday. I attended the inquest, as next of kin. A painful ordeal.” He blinked rapidly. “How such a calamity can have come about, I cannot imagine. My sister was forgetful and untidy, but to confuse chemicals with kitchen condiments. . . . However, somehow it happened. There was a woman who came daily, and it was natural to suspect some carelessness on her part, but she was very definite she never meddled with the chemicals, and the coroner——”
“There were other chemicals in the house, then?”
“It is a bungalow. Yes, my sister’s husband had been science master at a boys’ preparatory school, and Blanche had a small science class.”
“There was no suggestion of suicide?”
“The point was raised, Mr. Tuke. But why should Blanche do such a thing? She was in excellent health and spirits when I saw her last, only two months ago.”
“And with your inheritance in view, she had every reason to live? Well, now tell me something about sodium nitrite, Mr. Shearsby. Don’t you use it in your work?”
The chemist sat up as if slightly stung. He gave Mr. Tuke a pained look.
“It is used largely in the manufacture of dye-stuffs,” he said. “But in justice to myself, Mr. Tuke, I should make it clear that the delicate and confidential work upon which I am now engaged—we are, as you will appreciate, practically a branch of the Ministry of Supply—this work has no connection with dye-stuffs as such, and for many months I have had no occasion to handle sodium nitrite.”
“It appears to be highly poisonous.”
Mr. Shearsby sniffed in a superior manner. “So are many of the alkaline metal compounds. Sodium nitrite is one of the most common in commercial use. It can be prepared, I may add, in any elementary laboratory. NaNO3 + SO2 + CaSO4,” he chanted, getting into his stride, “equals NaNO2 + CaSO4. In simple language, if you mix a concentrated solution of sodium nitrite with quicklime, insoluble calcium sulphate is formed, and sodium nitrite, the NaNO2, remains in solution. Another method of preparation is to add lead to fused sodium nitrate—NaNO3 + Pb,—add the fused mass to water——”
“H2O,” said Mr. Tuke. “I know that one. I am told, by the way, that there has been at least one previous case of fatal poisoning by sodium nitrite.”
Again the chemist sat up with a startled jerk. He looked unhappily at Mr. Tuke, and then at his wife.
“I told you,” Lilian Shearsby said, “that if you would drag all this into the daylight, that story was bound to come out. You had nothing to do with it, anyway.”
Her husband brightened a little. “True, true. You are referring, no doubt, Mr. Tuke, to the fatality at Bedford last year. But though the man was employed by Imperial Sansil, he was not in my department. I did not even know him. But you will appreciate,” said Mr. Shearsby, beginning to recover his aplomb, “that knowledge of this previous case confirmed my natural supposition that my sister’s death was accidental.”
“It must also have influenced the Guildford coroner.” The chemist coughed. “Ahem. The point was not raised.” Mr. Tuke’s eyebrows were. “Not even by you?”
“No, Mr. Tuke.” Having no doubt foreseen that this little awkwardness must arise sooner or later, Mortimer Shearsby dealt with it firmly. “I acted for the best. There was not the slightest connection between the two cases. But in the earlier one Imperial Sansil was indirectly involved. At the time there was some ill-natured talk in Bedford. Accusations of carelessness were flung about. As a senior and trusted servant of the firm, I am in a responsible position. We are engaged on confidential work of the highest priority, and I felt it would be most injudicious to revive this old story. It would be aiding the enemy. An act of moral sabotage,” said