Snare of Serpents (19 page)

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Authors: Victoria Holt

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #General, #Parricide, #Contemporary, #Edinburgh (Scotland), #Stepmothers

BOOK: Snare of Serpents
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Mr. Kirkwell was questioned about being called by me in the early morning and dashing off to get the doctor.

“Did you go to the bedroom where Mr. Glentyre was dying?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did it occur to you that it was strange that he should be so ill?”

“Well, sir, he’d had one or two of these attacks. I thought it was just another … only worse.”

Mrs. Kirkwell followed her husband into the witness box.

“Mrs. Kirkwell, you were worried about the rats which had appeared near the house, were you?”

“Yes, sir. They were in the mews. I never had them in the house, sir.”

“Did you ever see any near the house?”

“Oh no. I couldn’t have borne that. Rats near my kitchen! Horrible things. Dirty. Hamish told me they were in the mews … stables and all that. But he got some arsenic and finished them off.”

“Was there any mention of getting arsenic because he had seen them near the kitchen door?”

“Never in my hearing, sir. I never knew they were in the dustbin. I would have been out of my mind, I can tell you, if I’d heard that.”

“So you would undoubtedly remember. Now I want you to cast your mind back. A young man, a Mr. James North, had been invited to the house, had he not?”

“Yes. He came once or twice. He was sweet on Miss Davina.”

“And Mr. Glentyre did not approve of the young man. Is that it?”

“I don’t reckon he had anything against him, but he was poor and wasn’t what Mr. Glentyre had in mind for her.”

“And there was a scene.”

“Well, sir. I just happened to be on the stairs with Bess …that’s one of the maids. The door of the study opened. I heard them shouting and Miss Davina flounced out. He was going to cut her out of his will if she married Mr. North.”

“And Miss Davina was upset, was she?”

“Oh terribly. She shouted back at him. She said he could cut her out if he wanted to. It wouldn’t change her mind … or something like that.”

Ninian rose and said: “Do you often listen to your employer’s private conversation, Mrs. Kirkwell?”

“No, I do not, sir. I just happened …”

“Just happened to be conveniently placed when Miss Davina flounced—I think you said—out of the study and went to her room. When did you hear all this conversation? It must have lasted more than a few seconds. Yet in that time you hear that Mr. Glentyre is going to cut her out of his will and her saying that she did not care.”

“Well, that’s what I heard.”

“I suggest that you heard voices and as time passed you imagined you heard those words spoken.”

“No, I did not.”

Ninian smiled and said: “That will be all.”

Mrs. Kirkwell, flushed and indignant, left the witness box.

Hamish was next. He looked slightly less jaunty than usual.

“I am Hamish Vosper,” he said, “coachman to the late Mr. Glentyre. At the beginning of this year I saw a rat in the stables. I bought sixpennyworth of arsenic at Henniker’s drugstore and managed to get rid of three of them in a week.”

“Did you mention this in the kitchen to the servants?”

“Yes, I did.”

“To Mrs. Kirkwell and the maids? Was anyone else there when you talked of the efficiency of arsenic?”

He looked across at me and hesitated.

“Was Miss Davina Glentyre there?”

“Well, yes, she was.”

“Did she express interest?”

“I … I don’t remember.”

“Did the maid Ellen Farley tell you she had seen a rat near the kitchen … in the dustbin?”

“No.”

“Did Miss Farley ever speak to you about rats?”

“I don’t think so. She didn’t speak much to me. She wasn’t the talking sort.”

“Are you sure that she did not tell you she had seen a rat jump out of the dustbin?”

“If she did I can’t recall it.”

“That will do.”

Ninian rose.

“Mr. Glentyre was pleased with your services as a coachman, was he not?”

Hamish preened himself. “Oh yes, he reckoned I was very good.”

“So good that you took the place of your father?”

“Well … yes.”

“Excellent,” said Ninian. “And you were naturally proud of your skills?”

Hamish looked pleased. I could see he was enjoying this.

“You like to go out with your friends … in the evenings?” went on Ninian.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I ask the questions, remember, please. There is nothing wrong with it unless you decide to use the family carriage for these excursions … without your employer’s permission.”

Hamish flushed.

“Did you do this on several occasions?” persisted Ninian.

“I … I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember? Then I will assure you that you did and I can produce evidence to prove this. But your memory is not good. You forgot. Might it not be that you could also have forgotten that Ellen Farley mentioned to you that she had seen a rat in the dustbin and you recommended her to try the arsenic which had proved effective?”

“I … I …”

“No more questions.”

I saw how successfully Ninian had planted doubts in the minds of the jury as to the reliability of Hamish’s evidence; and he was, after all, a key witness.

Zillah made a good impression on the court, but I felt it was not the Zillah I knew who stood in the witness box.

She even looked different. She was all in black; her face was pale, her hair simply dressed under the small black hat with the veil. She gave the impression of being a young, beautiful and lonely widow, suddenly bereft of a loving husband, looking out in bewilderment on a cruel world which, with one stroke, had taken her husband and put her stepdaughter in the dock.

She was a superb actress and like all her kind enjoyed having an audience to perform to. On the other hand, so well did she play the part that she did not appear to be acting.

She had I supposed cared for my father. She had always behaved to him most lovingly; she had seemed genuinely concerned about his illness. She had made the last months of his life happy. Yet I wondered.

The Lord Justice Clerk was clearly impressed by her—as I think was the whole court. Her beauty seemed the more outstanding because of the simplicity of her dress and her quietly tragic manner.

“Mrs. Glentyre.” The questioner spoke in a gentle voice. “Could you tell us what happened on that tragic night?”

She told them that her husband had not been well on the previous day and she had insisted on his remaining at home.

“Was he very ill?”

“Oh no. I just thought he should have a restful day.”

“That night at dinner he took a glass of port wine?”

“Yes.”

“The wine was in a decanter on the sideboard?”

“Yes.”

“Your stepdaughter, Miss Davina Glentyre, offered to pour it out?”

“Yes. There was nothing unusual about that. Kirkwell, the butler, was not present.”

“He was usually present, was he?”

“Er … yes, mostly. But he had been bringing up another decanter.”

“You did not take a glass of wine on that occasion?”

“No.”

“Nor your stepdaughter?”

“Neither of us did. We rarely did.”

“So it was just Mr. Glentyre who had his glass from the decanter which was poured out by Miss Glentyre?”

“Yes.”

“Did you know that there had been trouble between your husband and his daughter about her determination to marry a young man?”

“Yes … but I didn’t think it was very serious.”

“But he had threatened to cut her out of his will.”

“I just thought it was one of those little upsets that would blow over.”

“Did he talk to you about it?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “He may have mentioned it.”

“Did he want her to marry someone else?”

“Parents do have plans for their children. I think it was all rather vague.”

“And did your stepdaughter speak to you of this matter?”

“Oh yes. We were good friends. I tried to be a mother to her.” She made a little gesture.

“More like a sister, I imagine,” said the Justice Clerk smiling and allowing his admiration for her to show a little.

“And you talked to her about this matter? Did she mention how bitterly she felt against her father?”

“No. Not at all. I convinced her that it would come all right in the end. Parents often disapprove of their children’s marriages.”

It was Ninian’s turn.

“You and your stepdaughter quickly became good friends?”

“Oh yes.”

“You came as governess originally, I believe.”

“That is so.”

“And within a short time you married the master of the house.”

I could see that the court was with her. It was charmingly romantic and the most natural thing in the world that the master of the house should be overcome by her charms. A happy
ending for the governess—but, oh, how tragically her happiness had been cut short!

“We have heard that traces of arsenic were found in your husband’s body. Can you give us any idea how they came to be there?”

“I can only say that he must have taken it himself.”

“You have heard that it is a practise among some people to take arsenic for certain purposes. Do you think there is a possibility that your husband may have been one of these people?”

“Well … there is a possibility.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He once told me that some time ago he had taken small doses of arsenic.”

There was tenseness in the court. Everyone was watching her. I felt myself caught up in it. My father … taking arsenic!

“What effect did he say this had on him?”

“It made him better, he said. Someone told him that it was dangerous … and he stopped taking it.”

“Did he tell you where he got this arsenic?”

“I did not ask him and he did not say. He travelled sometimes abroad. He could have got it somewhere on the Continent. He was there on business some years ago. It may have been then.”

“Did he say so?”

“No. I did not think to ask. I was just surprised that he had taken it.”

“This could be important evidence. Why did you not mention it before?”

“I only remembered it when you asked.”

“Did it not occur to you on your husband’s death that the arsenic found in his body might have been taken voluntarily by himself?”

“No … only just now.”

“And now you think that is a possibility?”

“Oh yes, I do.”

There was a hushed silence over the court. I had the feeling that she was lying. I could not believe that my father would
take arsenic. It was true that some years ago he had gone to the Continent on business. Could it possibly be that he had acquired the arsenic then? After all, what did I know of his secret life? Much had recently been revealed to me, but there must be so much of which I was ignorant.

I could sense Ninian’s excitement.

The Prosecution wanted to question Zillah further.

“If your husband had a secret store of arsenic in the house, where would he keep it?”

“I don’t know. He had a cabinet in which he kept certain medicines.”

“Did you ever see arsenic there?”

“I hardly looked at it. I had no reason to go there. I don’t think it would have been labelled ‘arsenic’ if it had been there.”

“Was not the bedroom searched at the time of Mr. Glentyre’s death?”

“I think so.”

“No arsenic was found then. If he were taking it, would it not be strange that there was no trace of it in the room?”

“I do not know.”

The Prosecution was shaken; but I could see the dawning triumph in Ninian’s attitude.

I should have been elated, for there was a possibility that my father had killed himself. But was this true? Was Zillah inventing this story in an attempt to save me?

The first day was over. I had an idea that there would be many more to come.

N
INIAN CAME TO SEE ME
that evening. He was elated.

“It’s a breakthrough,” he said. “This must be our line. If we can prove he has taken the stuff himself, we’ve got the answer. It’s plausible. A man who is no longer young married to a beautiful young wife. Naturally he wants to improve his health. He wants to be young again … so he resorts to this.”

“I cannot believe that my father would ever have taken arsenic.”

“You cannot be sure what people will do. If only we could find this Ellen Farley who would confirm that she asked you to
buy the arsenic … we should be in the clear. We could romp home. I can’t think what’s happened to the woman. It’s not easy to find people in London … particularly on such little information. If it had only been some country town … or village … we should have had her by now. They are still searching, of course. But I did think something would have come to light by now. Your stepmother was a wonderful witness. I have the idea that she desperately wants to help you.”

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