Parker wagged his head sympathetically.
“And then?”
“Then Miss Dorland went away again, after a little talk with me, and presently Nellie came in — that’s the housemaid.”
“How long after was that?”
“Oh, some time. I had just finished my cup of tea which I have at four o’clock. It would be about half past. She came to ask for some brandy for the General, as he was feeling badly. The spirits are kept in my room, you see, and I have the key.”
Parker showed nothing of his special interest in this piece of news.
“Did you see the General when you took the brandy?”
“I did not take it.” Mrs. Mitcham’s tone implied that fetching and carrying was not part of her duty. “I sent it by Nellie.”
“I see. So you did not see the General again before he left?”
“No. Miss Dorland informed me later that he had had a heart attack.”
“I am very much obliged to you, Mrs. Mitcham. Now I should like just to ask Nellie a few questions.”
Mrs. Mitcham touched a bell. A fresh-faced pleasant-looking girl appeared in answer.
“Nellie, this police-officer wants you to give him some information about that time General Fentiman came here. You must tell him what he wants to know, but remember he is busy and don’t start your chattering. You can speak to Nellie here, officer.”
And she sailed out.
“A bit stiff, isn’t she?” murmured Parker, in an awestruck whisper.
“She’s one of the old-fashioned sort, I don’t mind saying,” agreed Nellie with a laugh.
“She put the wind up me. Now, Nellie—” he took up the old formula, “I hear you were sent to get some brandy for the old gentleman. Who told you about it?”
“Why, it was like this. After the General had been with Lady Dormer getting on for an hour, the bell rang in her ladyship’s room. It was my business to answer that, so I went up, and Nurse Armstrong put her head out and said, ‘Get me a drop of brandy, Nellie, quick, and ask Miss Dorland to come here. General Fentiman’s rather unwell.’ So I went for the brandy to Mrs. Mitcham, and on the way up with it, I knocked at the studio door where Miss Dorland was.”
“Where’s that, Nellie?”
“It’s a big room on the first floor — built over the kitchen. It used to be a billiard-room in the old days, with a glass roof. That’s where Miss Dorland does her painting and messing about with bottles and things, and she uses it as a sitting-room, too.”
“Messing about with bottles?”
“Well, chemists’ stuff and things. Ladies have to have their hobbies you know, not having any work to do. It makes a lot to clear up.”
“I’m sure it does. Well, go on, Nellie — I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Well, I gave Nurse Armstrong’s message, and Miss Dorland said, ‘Oh dear, Nellie,’ she said, ‘poor old gentleman. It’s been too much for him. Give me the brandy, I’ll take it along. And run along and get Dr. Penberthy on the telephone.’ So I gave her the brandy and she took it upstairs.”
“Half a moment. Did you see her take it upstairs?”
“Well, no, I don’t think I actually saw her go up — but I thought she did. But I was going down to the telephone, so I didn’t exactly notice.”
“No — why should you?”
“I had to look Dr. Penberthy’s number up in the book, of course. There was two numbers, and when I got his private house, they told me he was in Harley Street. While I was trying to get the second number Miss Dorland called over the stairs to me. She said ‘Have you got the doctor, Nellie?’ And I said, ‘No, miss, the doctor’s round in Harley Street.’ And she said, ‘Oh! well, when you get him, say General Fentiman’s had a bad turn and he’s coming round to see him at once.’ So I said, ‘Isn’t the doctor to come here, miss?’ And she said, ‘No; the General’s better now and he says he would rather go round there. Tell William to get a taxi.’ So she went back, and just then I got through to the surgery and said to Dr. Penberthy’s man to expect General Fentiman at once. And then he came downstairs with Miss Dorland and Nurse Armstrong holding on to him, and he looked mortal bad, poor old gentleman. William — the footman, you know, came in then and said he’d got the taxi, and he put General Fentiman into it, and then Miss Dorland and Nurse went upstairs again, and that was the end of it.”
“I see. How long have you been here, Nellie?”
“Three years — sir.” The “sir” was a concession to Parker’s nice manners and educated way of speech. “Quite the gentleman,” as Nellie remarked afterwards to Mrs. Mitcham, who replied “No, Nellie — gentlemanlike I will not deny, but a policeman is a person, and I will trouble you to remember it.”
“Three years? That’s a long time as things go nowadays. Is it a comfortable place?”
“Not bad. There’s Mrs. Mitcham, of course, but I know how to keep the right side of her. And the old lady — well, she was a real lady in every way.”
“And Miss Dorland?”
“Oh, she gives no trouble, except clearing up after her. But she always speaks nicely and says please and thank you. I haven’t any complaints.”
“Modified rapture,” thought Parker. Apparently Ann Dorland had not the knack of inspiring passionate devotion. “Not a very lively house, is it, for a young girl like yourself?”
“Dull as ditchwater,” agreed Nellie, frankly. “Miss Dorland would have what they called studio parties sometimes, but not at all smart and nearly all young ladies — artists and suchlike.”
“And naturally it’s been quieter still since Lady Dormer died. Was Miss Dorland very much distressed at her death?”
Nellie hesitated. “She was very sorry, of course; her ladyship was the only one she had in the world. And then she was worried with all this lawyer’s business — something about the will, I expect you know, sir?”
“Yes, I know about that. Worried, was she?”
“Yes, and that angry — you wouldn’t believe. There was one day Mr. Pritchard came, I remember particular, because I happened to be dusting the hall at the time, you see, and she was speaking that quick and loud I couldn’t help hearing. ‘I’ll fight it for all I’m worth,’ that was what she said and ‘a… something — to defraud’—what would that be now?”
“Plot?” suggested Parker.
“No — a—a conspiracy, that’s it. A conspiracy to defraud. And then I didn’t hear any more till Mr. Pritchard came out. and he said to her, ‘Very well, Miss Dorland, we will make an independent inquiry.’ And Miss Dorland looked so eager and angry, I was surprised. But it all seemed to wear off, like. She hasn’t been the same person the last week or so.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, don’t you notice it yourself, sir? She seems so quiet and almost frightened-like. As if she’d had a shock. And she cries a dreadful lot. She didn’t do that at first.”
“How long has she been so upset?”
“Well, I think it was when all this dreadful business came out about the poor old gentleman being murdered. It is awful, sir, isn’t it? Do you think you’ll catch the one as did it?”
“Oh, I expect so,” said Parker, cheerfully. “That came as a shock to Miss Dorland, did it?”
“Well, I should say so. There was a little bit in the paper, you know, sir, about Sir James Lubbock having found out about the poisoning, and when I called Miss Dorland in the morning I took leave to point it out. I said, ‘That’s a funny thing, miss, isn’t it; about General Fentiman being poisoned,’ just like that, I said. And she said, ‘Poisoned, Nellie? you must be mistaken’. So I showed her the bit in the paper and she looked just dreadful.”
“Well, well,” said Parker, “it’s a very horrid thing to hear about a person one knows. Anybody would be upset.”