I hurried back to the shack. The sergeant was dozing, his belt off and his tunic unbuttoned. Lathom was staring into the fire with his chin on his hands.
‘Hullo, you two!’ I said with unnecessary heartiness. The policeman jerked awake. ‘Lor’ bless me,’ he muttered apologetically. ‘I must ’a’ dropped off.’
‘Why not?’ said I. ‘Best way to pass the time. Look here, there’s a pound of sausages in our kit that we brought down last night. How about a bit of grub?’
We did not care about using any of the pots and pans in that place, so whittled a stick to a point, and toasted the sausages on that. They tasted none the worse.
2
Analysis
46. Margaret Harrison to Harwood Lathom
15, Whittington Terrace, Bayswater 20.10.29
Oh, Petra, my dear, my own dear at last!
When I heard your voice on the phone this morning, telling me what had happened, I didn’t know how to believe it. It all seemed so strange. And when I hung the receiver up, I had to pinch myself to be sure it wasn’t a dream. I went upstairs, and there was the girl in her dressing-gown on the landing. She must have been hanging over the stairs, for she said, ‘Oh, ma’am. Whatever’s happened? I heard the telephone a-ringing and looked out and heard you talking. Has there been an accident ma’am?’ I said, ‘Yes; a dreadful accident. Mr Harrison’s dead.’ She stared at me, and I said, ‘He’s poisoned himself with eating some of those nasty toadstools.’ She began to cry. ‘I knew he would! Oh, ma’am, what an awful thing. Such a nice gentleman as he was.’ That seemed to make it real, somehow. ‘A nice gentleman’ — well, she wasn’t married to him. She couldn’t know how I was feeling. That was just as well, wasn’t it, Petra? She hung about and brought me some tea, sniffing and sobbing over it. I couldn’t say anything, but that was all right. She thought I was stunned with grief, I suppose. I did feel stunned. I can’t realise, even now — though I’ve just seen it in the paper. Fancy that! People keep on calling, but I’ve said I can’t see them. I want to be alone with my freedom.
Oh, Petra — didn’t I tell you that God was on our side? Our love is so beautiful, so right — He had to make a miracle happen to save it. Isn’t it wonderful — without our doing anything at all! That shows how right it was. I am so glad, now, that we didn’t do anything of the terrible things we thought about. It would have been so dangerous — and we might — I don’t know — we might have wondered afterwards. It would have been like living over a volcano. And now, Heaven has stepped in and made everything all right for ever and ever.
How glad I am you weren’t there when it happened. That seems like a special providence, too, doesn’t it? Because you would have had to go for a doctor, and then he might have recovered. And besides, people might have thought you had something to do with it — if they ever found out about you and me, I mean. Doesn’t it seem like a judgement on him, Petra? And I used to be so angry about his cooking and his toadstool book and everything — and all the while he was digging a pit for himself to fall into, like the wicked man in the Bible! It was all planned out from the beginning, to set us free for our beautiful life together. What was that thing people used to say — something in Latin about when God wishes to destroy anybody He first makes him mad. He was mad about the toadstools and things, you know. Sometimes, when he had those dreadful fits of temper, I used to think he was really and truly mad. I was afraid of him then, but I see now there was nothing to be afraid of. It was all meant to help us in the end.
And Petra — that other thing I was afraid of — you know — it’s all right! Nothing is going to happen! It was just a mistake. Isn’t that splendid? Because now we shan’t have to get married in such a hurry. That might have made people talk, you know. We only have to wait a little bit now — just a little patience, my sweetheart, and then — oh, Petra! Think of the happiness! Everything has come right at once, hasn’t it, my darling? All the clouds cleared away and the sun is shining.
Well, now, darling — you won’t mind if I talk just a little bit of business? It seems horrid to think of it, when our love ought to be the one thing in our minds, but we must be a little bit practical. Of course, I had to send for the lawyer this morning and he showed me the will. There will be about £15,000 when it is all cleared up. Half of this goes to his son, Paul, straight away, and I get the other half for my lifetime, after which it would all go to my children — his and mine — that is, if there were any, and failing them, it goes to Paul when I die. So you see, I shall only be bringing you a small income, dear, but you are making money now, so we shan’t be so badly off, shall we? It’s funny — I suppose if you and I had really had a child, the law would have presumed it was his (think of that!), and then it would have inherited the money! But I think perhaps it is better as it is. It might not have seemed quite honourable to profit by anything that wasn’t quite true, and I should like to feel that everything about our love was absolutely clear and honourable, and that we had nothing to reproach ourselves about. Of course, narrow-minded people might think our love itself was wicked — but one can’t help loving, can one, darling? One might as well tell the sun not to rise. Because you and I belong to one another, and nothing in all the world can alter that. So you won’t mind about the money, will you, Petra? I was afraid he might have made some mean condition about my not marrying again, but I suppose he didn’t think of that.
You will have to stay for the inquest, of course. Shall I have to go? I don’t like the idea of standing up with everybody looking at me. Besides, I can’t tell them anything, can I? Do you think he ought to be buried down there or brought back to London? I want to do whatever you think would look right. I have cabled Paul, but he is so far away in the wilds, I don’t know whether I shall get an answer in time. All these things are so absurd and hateful. We surround death with such a lot of hypocrisy and formality. It ought to be made just simple and beautiful, like the leaves falling. I shall have to order mourning and a widow’s veil — think of wearing black clothes when one is happy. I should like a robe made of the rainbow — I’m wearing it in my heart, darling — all for you!
Write quickly, dearest, and tell me what to do. And tell me that you are as glad as I am and that you love me, love me, love me as I love you! Lolo
47. Extract from the ‘Morning Express’ of Tuesday, October 2nd, 1929
MUSHROOM DEATH MYSTERY INQUEST — Poisoned Man’s Lone Agony — WELL-KNOWN ARTIST GIVES EVIDENCE—
The little schoolroom in the remote village of Manaton in Devon was crowded today, when Dr Pringle, the coroner for the district, opened the inquest on the body of George Harrison, aged 56, Head of the Accounts Department of Messrs Frobisher, Wiley & Teddington, Electrical Engineers, who was found dead under extraordinary circumstances in his little cottage, ‘The Shack’, on Saturday night.
Evidence of the deceased’s curious hobbies was given by his friend, Mr Harwood Lathom, the brilliant young artist who had been staying with him in ‘The Shack’, and who discovered the body.
The deceased, who is the author of Neglected Edible Treasures, an interesting and highly original volume, dealing with the foodstuffs to be obtained from our native woods and hedgerows, was stated to have been fond of experiments in unconventional cookery, and it was suggested that he had fallen a victim to accidental poisoning, by consuming a dish of venomous toadstools, a portion of which, it is alleged, was discovered on the table in ‘The Shack’ at the time of his death.
The inquest was adjourned for a fortnight, to enable a chemical analysis to be made of certain organs.
After formal evidence of identification, the first witness called was Mr Harwood Lathom. Dressed in a suit of heather-mixture plus-four tweeds and with an expression of anxiety and distress on his face, Mr Lathom gave his evidence in a subdued tone.
SWEALED HEDGEHOG
Mr Lathom said that he had known Mr Harrison and his family for a period of rather over twelve months. He had occupied the adjoining maisonette to theirs in Bayswater, and had there formed an acquaintance with them, which had resulted in a considerable degree of intimacy. He had painted a portrait of Mrs Harrison, which had been exhibited in the spring of 1929 at the Royal Academy. Financial and other considerations had resulted in his giving up the lease of the maisonette in February, and going to live in Paris, but the friendship with the Harrisons had been kept up by correspondence and occasional visits.
Mr Harrison had been accustomed to take an annual holiday ‘on his own’ at ‘The Shack’, living a bachelor existence, and making the experiments in natural cookery in which he was interested. He also painted in water-colours. On Mr Lathom’s return to England, in October, Mr Harrison had suggested that he should join him in his residence at ‘The Shack’. They had gone down there together on Saturday, the 12th of October, and had passed a very enjoyable holiday.
The Coroner: Will you explain the arrangements made about obtaining supplies of food and so on? — Bread, meat and vegetables were brought, when required, by the carrier, who called on Monday and Thursday, and took the orders for his next visit. A supply of tinned food, including condensed milk, was kept in ‘The Shack’. There was no delivery of newspapers. Letters were fetched from the post office at Manaton by anybody who happened to be walking that way, or brought by the carrier on his visits.
Who did the cooking and housework? — We shared the work of washing up, carrying wood and so on. Mr Harrison did all the cooking. He was a first-class cook.
Did he supplement the fresh and tinned meat and so on, with what may be called experiments in natural diet? — Oh yes. One evening we had swealed hedgehog, for example, (Laughter.)
Was it good? — It was delicious. (Laughter.)
‘I NEVER ATE ANY TOADSTOOLS’
The Coroner: Hedgehog — Was that the only unconventional dish you saw prepared? — No. On two or three occasions Mr Harrison gathered fungi of various kinds and had them for breakfast or supper.
Did these fungi include the ordinary mushroom of commerce? — On one occasion, yes.
Did you eat any of that dish? — I ate a small quantity. I do not care very much for mushrooms.
And on the other occasions? — On, I think, two occasions, Mr Harrison brought in other fungi, which, he explained, were good to eat. A great number of fungi are to be found in the valleys and damp, low-lying spots in the neighbourhood. One variety was called, I believe, Chanterelles, or some such name, and there was also a purple one, called ‘Amethyst’ something-or-other.
These were fungi of a kind not usually eaten by the ordinary person? The sort commonly called toadstools. — Yes; common, wild fungi.
Was the flavour of them agreeable? — I do not know. They smelt very savoury, but I did not eat any of them.
How was that? — I did not think it was safe. I was afraid of eating something poisonous.
You knew that a great many edible varieties of fungi exist in addition to the common mushroom? There is a Government publication dealing with them, I believe? — I believe there is.
And Mr Harrison was considered an authority on the subject? — I do not know if he was generally so considered. He had devoted much attention to the subject and had written a book on our natural food resources.
Had you read the book? — I had read parts of it.
But you did not feel sufficient confidence in the deceased’s judgement to partake of the toadstools yourself? — I suppose I did not. These things are largely a matter of prejudice. I did not care about the idea of eating toadstools.
UNHEEDED WARNINGS
The Coroner: But Mr Harrison ate them and was none the worse. — Oh, certainly. He appeared to enjoy them very much and there were no ill-effects.
Did you ever remonstrate with the deceased about his habit of eating these dangerous fungi? — I told him I was afraid there would be an accident some day. The subject had frequently been mentioned previously, when he was preparing his book. Mrs Harrison and his friends often said, more or less jokingly, that there would be a coroner’s inquest on him one of these days.
And how did the deceased receive these warnings? — He laughed, and said it was all ignorance and prejudice. He said there was no danger at all for anybody who had thoroughly studied the subject.
Can you tell us how these dishes of fungi were prepared? — He had several methods. Sometimes he would grill them with butter and garlic, and other times he would stew them with condensed milk or in beef stock. He was fond of inventing new methods of cooking things.
‘I AM GOING TO HUNT FOR FUNGI’
The Coroner: Now let us come to the time of the death. You had gone up to London, I think? — Yes. I had occasion to consult my agents and to transact a few matters of business in town. I went up by the 8.13 from Bovey Tracey on the Thursday morning. I had ordered a taxi the day before.