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Dr. Hanson’s Case-Book · The Dalehouse Murder

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  Chapter eight of The Dale House Murder by Francis Everton. This livery box recording
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  is in the public domain. Read by yoganand The Dale House Murder, Chapter
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  eight, Doctor Hanson's case book For pleasure or comfort of any sort. It
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  was too hot in the Volgut garden, but merely to be away from the
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  house brought a certain sense of ease and rest. Sitting under the old,
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  shady cedar, it was easier to keep dark thoughts away, and difficult to
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  realize that the homely looking red brick house was a shelter of a murder and
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  crime. Difficult to realize that at summer during the previous night, the little
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  Chinese flagon had been secretly lifted from its place on the shelf among its almost
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  equally deadly little neighbors, lifted oh so gently, and the queer flat stopper
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  quietly removed from its fragile slender neck. Then just a tilt and drip,
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  trip, trip, a few drops added to the contents of a tapering glass,
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  and at some hour of the hot, still night, Posteller had slipped
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  out of sleep into death. Whose hand I wondered had said that murderous little
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  bottle back in its place. Was it a hand that trembled and shook,
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  or was it steady and deft like the hands he had seen so swiftly busy
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  with the bandages round a small boy's face. Inspector Brown's two gardeners were making
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  liborious work of their search. The end of the roof, where the ivy
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  grew was full in the blaze of the sun, and coats and waistcoats were
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  in turn discarded. There were intervals for chatty little rest and the mopping of
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  faces. In three quarters of an hour, a very small bit of the
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  roof had been dealt with, and a calculated that it would be dark before
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  the whole could be cleared unless progress was speeded up. The Inspector was evidently
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  of the same opinion, for he came in while we were watching, and
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  we soon heard his loud voice complaints of prost the lawn. A little later
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  the party was increased to three. They cleared the roof methodically, a foot
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  at a time. When the main strands of the tangle growth had been cut
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  and disentangled, they were carefully shaken out and thrown to the lawn below.
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  The loose leaves on the roof were examined and put into a bucket. These
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  having been removed, the smaller bits were collected together and riddled through a sieve.
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  The siftings were swipped aside and the remainder carefully searched. Then another few
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  strands were cut, and the process repeated. Margaret and I watched them mildly
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  as we said their clippings in the noise of the bucket as it was handled
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  up and down from the roof, punctuating our desultory conversation. I fancy we
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  were both meditating with lazy inconsequence on the day's events, and of few remarks
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  reflected our meditations. We are sure to have some of them down from the
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  club to make inquirius this evening. I said, yes, it'll be rather
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  awkward. What it a long pass in which I puffed her way leisurely at
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  my pipe and she lay back gently, rotating a red parasol. Don't you
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  think we ought to have some definite understanding about what we are all of us
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  going to say? When callers do appear, we are sure to have no
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  one directly it gets about the hands. Is not nearly everyone there is to
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  know in Merchester? And I can assure you from my own experience that we
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  simply can't be beaten where curiosity is concerned. She moved a chair round as
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  she spoke to get a better view of the surgery wing. I think that
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  you are right, I said, knocking the ashes out of my pipe.
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  I'll have a word with the doctor about it. He would deal with them
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  better than any of us, she agreed. But he may not be here
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  all the time. And I can't imagine that either Ethel or Kenneth would excellent
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  job. They're both too, she paused for a word exactly, I laughed,
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  they're both of them too, and you can leave it at that.
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  We fell back on our meditations, and I thought, what a peaceful,
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  rosy scene it would have made if only the men at work on the roof
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  had been gardener's Indeed, and Margaret and I remnant of some pleasant social gathering,
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  gardeners pulling an ivy tree for next year's more vigorous growth, hope for
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  the future, and life, plainclothes, policemen searching for a piece of poisoned
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  glass. Murder and death. The cathedral chimes rang out again, and Rose's
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  boat it was six o'clock. We had sat in the garden for nearly an
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  hour. We got up and went back to the house. She to go
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  to Ethel, and I to find the Tundish. He was in the dispensary,
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  the coolest spot in the house, his feet on the desk in front
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  of him, and his chair tilted back at a dangerous angle. He was
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  scowling at a manuscript in which he was deeply engrossed. No. I had
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  anticipated his pleasant hallo Jeff Corck, but it was met with a frown and
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  a curtly spoken well. It was the first time I had seen him either
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  bothered or abrupt. The heat of the past few days, which had prostrated
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  the rest of us and made us irritable and touchy, had not been sufficient
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  to sap his energy or sore his sweet temper. I remember that, in
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  addition to facing the appalling position in which he found himself here at tail house,
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  he had had to rush away directly after breakfast to some other scene of
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  illness and distress. He hurried back through the sweltering heat to meet the aspersions
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  of Alpot and the angry attack of Kenneth. Throughout the fevered day, he
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  had been calm, kindly, and unruffled, a rock, as Ethel had
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  whispered for all of us to lean on. I was surprised, therefore,
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  to find him frowning and sharp spoken. And he either saw my surprise or
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  else he read my thoughts, for he closed the book with a bang,
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  took his feet off the desk, and stood up, saying, sorry,
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  Jeff corp ole Man, but I've got an incipient hump in my opinion.
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  You've been through enough to turn you into veritable dromedary so far as Hams are
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  concerned, I answered, Oh, that you mean my strong position has favorite
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  for the gallows takes now my dey, Jeff cop to be perfectly truthful,
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  that bothers me not at all. Death is a friend we shall all have
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  to shake by the hand. It's this depressing little record of unwholesome happenings and
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  disease that nearly gave me a fit of the blues. I looked at the
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  book with interest. It's Hansoon's case book. He answered my unspoken question.
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  Such books should be burnt, burnt, and then the ashes scattered at sea.
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  For half the world's unhappiness springs from the disorders that we docked us right
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  up. So secretly in our case books and keep hidden away under lock and
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  key. He flicked the pages between finger and thumb with a look of sad
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  disgust as he spoke. Hu, he said, as he replaced the book
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  on a drawer in the desk, which he pushed home with an angry pang.
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  I asked him what he thought we ought to say to any callers who
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  might come, and whether we had not better have some agreement among ourselves as
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  to how much information we were to give them when they came. Why,
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  yes, of course we must, he said pleasantly. I hope that I
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  shan't have to go out again to night, and probably had better see any
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  one who calls while I'm here. I shall be able to choke them off
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  more easily than Ethelwood, and it will appear quite natural for me to explain
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  that she has gone to lie down and rest. Then at supper time we
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  can decide together what to say to all the Matchester busy bodies to morrow.
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  It surprises me that we have not been pistoled with callers. Alderdy, it's
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  all over the city. I know. For half a dozen of my patients
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  found it difficult to hide their curiosity when I was out of my rounds this
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  afternoon. You'll see that quite apart from the kindly concil of Hansom, more
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  intimate friends half Manchester will be calling or ringing us up during the next twenty
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  four hours. They'll come for subscriptions, to borrow books, and to be
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  treated for imaginary complaints, anything in fact that will give them a chance to
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  satisfy the Gaulish curiosity. And here is the first of them, now,
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  unless I am very much mistaken. The bell had begun to ring as he
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  was speaking, and Annie announced Rushton, the secretary of the tennis club.
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  He was asking for ethel We had him shown into the dispensary. After shaking
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  hands with us and refusing to sit down as he wanted to get back to
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  the club as soon as he could, he came to the object of his
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  visit with commendable brevity. He hoped that it was not true that miss Poulfreyman
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  was dead, but that she was merely ill, as mister Bennett had told
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  them when he called at the club to scratch her names in the morning.
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  He was rather a nervous little man at best of times, and it was
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  obvious that he was not enjoying his visit. It's unfortunately wanted, too true,
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  the Tannish replied. She died at Chammar during the night, and Miss
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  Hanson had the shock of trying to wake her up this morning. Oh,
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  I say, I am so sorry. And is it true that there is
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  to be an inquest. Yes, that is true too. No one was
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  with her when she died, and am unable to certify the cause of her
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  death. We have consulted the police, and they tell us that an inquest
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  can't possibly be avoided. Russian stood embarrassed and muttering, oh, dear,
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  how sad, how very very sad, I laties. He was tracing half
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  circles in the cock matting with the toe of his shoe. Look here,
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  I don't want to add your troubles, he said, looking up suddenly,
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  as though he had made up his mind to go through with an unpleasant task.
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  But I thought I ought to tell miss Hanson about it at once.
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  I wanted to see her and tell her there are all manner of things being
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  whispered about at the club. He hesitated again, uncomfortably, and then went
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  on with a sort of nervous rush. They are saying that the police have
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  been in and out of the house all day long, that miss Poorfreyman was
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  murdered, that you have all of you been detained, and that you doctor
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  Wallace, were seen being driven off to the police station itself under escort.
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  There are all sorts of whisperings, and each that I have overheard has been
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  a little more gruesome than the last. It's beastly unpleasant news to have to
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  give you, but I really felt that some one ought to come and let
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  you know of the things that are being said. It has been exceedingly kind
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  and considerate of you, the Tundish reassured him. From the question I was
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  asked, and the looks I got, looks that I could almost overhear.
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  When I paid a few professional visits this afternoon, I guess that some such
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  stories must be afloat the facts. However, as I have told you,
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  Miss Poulfreyman's death is at present a mystery to us all. She was rather
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  overtired, but otherwise in normal health when she retired for the night. The
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  police have moved a body to the mortuary so that a careful examination can be
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  made. There's to be an inquest, and mister Jeff Corkyre and the others
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  have been asked to remain in much as to antlet is over. That is
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  really all that we can tell you. We are nearly as much in the
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  dark as we anyone else. It's a very painful position, without exaggeration.
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  And if you can help to thin out some of the rumors that are thickening
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  the air, we shall all be not a little grateful. Oh I will,
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  I'm most certainly will. I'll do everything I possibly can. He retreated
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  nervously. The doctor, I felt had not been overconvincing Rushton, I'm sure,
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  really came to us out of kindness and because he felt that someone ought
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  to warn us of what was being said, however unpleasant the task might be.
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  But if he had no suspicions of his own before he came, the
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  doctor's so called explanations would most surely have aroused them. A doctor in the
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  house, a mysterious death which the doctor would not certify, a body removed
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  to the mortuary by the police, and an inquest. An unpleasant string of
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  facts to have to admit, add a little imagination, a dash or to
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  of spite, and a misunderstanding here and there as the details had whispered by
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  one scandal loving cathedral matron to the next, and it is easy to realize
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  that the final story made even out Crimson the actual facts. The Tundish had
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  done his bait, But it was very evident that until the whole abominable business
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  was properly cleared up and Stella's murderer discovered and caught, nothing that we could
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  say or do would silence the gossip that was about. That is a first
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  of a great many kindly people who will make it their business to call because
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  they felt that we ought to know of the awful things that are being said.
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  The Tundish remarked with a wry grimace. Don't you think that he really
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  did feel like that? Oh? Yes, yes, and so will many
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  of the others who come for the same purpose. But they will one and
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  all go away to strengthen the rumors of which they came to warn us.
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  I'm not blaming them. It's human nature. We shall find it rather trying
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  there. I fancy it's half past six. I'll just run upstairs and find
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  out how Ethily is getting on, and then if it's not too hot for
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  you, I'll join you in the garden for a stroll. I agreed,
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  and went out through the front door, round the end of the house and
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  into the garden behind. The heat was still devastating, nor a leaf was
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  esther. Not even a stray whisper of cloud broke the pale blue of the
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  sky, a blue that faded imperceptibly into misty white above the top of the
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  high garden wall. Inspector Brown's three men were still busy with the ivy on
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  the roof, and the heap on the lawn had grown to a goodly size.
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  Nearly three quarters of the roof had been cleared. The inspector himself stood
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  watching them at work, peaked hat in hand, his red brown face looking
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  like a damn boiled beetroot. From underneath his handkerchief, which he had knotted
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  at the corners and placed on his head for protection against the sun. He
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  beckoned to me as he rounded the end of the house, and I went
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  and stood by his side. You are making good progress, I said,
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  Yes, Have you found what you were looking for? Yes? Are you
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  going to clear the lot while you are about to? Eh? Yes,
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  And looking at me queerly and mimicking the little exclamation with which I had finished
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  my own sentence, he added, there might be something else. Eh.
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  He continued the stair, his eyes looking for all the world like a couple
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  of bright blue buttons struck in his big red face. And then he surprised
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  me by asking, do your initials happen to be f H? Mister jeff
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  Cock, Yes, why do you ask? But I never got an answer
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  to my question. He turned abruptly and walked away, ignoring me rudely and
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  completely. I half thought of following him to make further inquiry, but his
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  broad, solid back and his thick bull neck both looked unresponsive, so I
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  mastered my curiosity and, crossing the lawn to the cedar tree, sat down
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  in the shade to wait for the thundersh. I was begging to think that
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  he must have forgotten me, when Margaret hurried to me. He wants us
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  both in the dispensary, she said, before she reached me, and turned
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  quickly back to the house, beckoning me to follow. He got up from
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  the desk as we entered, and placed the prescription dug in which he had
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  been writing on the table that stood in the middle of the room. Then
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  he took three bottles and a tape of medicine glass from the shelves over the
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  bench and put them on the table by the book. He was solemn and
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  portentous. Margaret and I were silent as we stood and watched him. I
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  am to prepare some medicine for ethyl, he informed us, when he had
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  caught everything ready, and in the circumstances, I feel that I should like
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  you to see me make it up. I can't explain my wish in so
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  many words. In fact, I really don't know why I want you to
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  be here. If I wanted to poison Ethel, I could of course do
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  it with the greatest ease while you both stand looking on. For instance,
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  you can check the prescription, which I have written out in full, and
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  you can check the bottles with the prescription. But you can't possibly be sure
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  that I haven't already tampered with the bottles. So you see, it's all
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  rather fascical. And yet I do very definitely feel that I should like you
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  to witness me making it up. I was aghast at the horrible suggestion as
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  words content, but he stood smiling at his pleasantly impatabble inscrutable. I think
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  that I can understand your feelings a little, Margaret said, ineptly. You're
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  afraid it might somehow happen again. Is Ethel really ill? Then? No,
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  oh, no, not exactly ill. But the bang in her mouth
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  has loosened one teeth, and some of the others have had a nasty jar.
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  It is given her neuralgia that I want her to have a comfortable night
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  if she can, we still have some unpleasant hours ahead at fear. He
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  was making up the medicine as he spoke, pouring first from one and then
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  from the other bottles a series of simple legs which he seemed to invest with
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  some quality of magic. The glass, lightly held between finger and thumb,
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  might have stood on a slab of stone of steadiness. Each ingredient trickled quickly
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  yet surely, to fill it to within a hair spreadth of the graduation mark
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  against which he had placed his thumb. Naught once did he have to make
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  an addition or adjustment. And so quick and precise was it all that he
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  had finished while he was answering Margaret's question, and the simple every day movements
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  took on the aspect of a conjuring trick. We initial the labels of the
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  bottle he had used, and the prescription he had written in the book after
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  checking the one with the other. Margaret too had evidently been impressed by the
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  slate of hair, And now shall I sit on a broomstick and whisk it
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  upstairs to Ethel. It was a most original remark I'd ever heard a make
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  no thanks, I'll take it up myself, Margaret Redden. But he smiled
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  at her coolly, adding I want to have a chat with her, And
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  he picked up the glass and whisk on. We didn't say anything, but
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  if Lukes could speak, I think we were both of us wondering why he
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  should have bothered to ask us to see and prepare the medicine, and then,
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  having had it for witness, have refused to let Margaret take it up
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  to Ethel. He could have gone up with her for his little chat.
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  It was queer and extraordinary. I could not understand it. The end of chapter eight