Page 42 of The Cursed Writer
In the hallway outside the library, Harry eyed Oliver with triumph. ‘You look like you’ve lost a penny and found a pound,’ he observed. ‘What have I missed?’
‘I think I know how Philip St John is being poisoned,’ she said. ‘Apart from the sleeping draught, prescribed by the family doctor, there’s only one thing that comes into the house solely for Philip St John, and that is his tobacco.’
Light dawned in Oliver’s eyes. ‘Which comes from the village shop.’
‘Exactly.’ Harry shook her head, remembering once more the Holmes story about the brother who had murdered his siblings by throwing poison into the fireplace. ‘It cannot be a coincidence that St John’s health improves dramatically when he cannot smoke. The tobacco has to be responsible – either something is added at the village, or here at the house.’
Oliver shifted uneasily. ‘It’s usually brought by Donaldson. Does that mean we should suspect him rather than Mary now?’
‘No one is above suspicion,’ Harry said. ‘Apart from Archer, who I still cannot believe would harm his uncle. But we need proof and there’s only one place to get that.’ She fixed Oliver with a determined stare. ‘Let’s take another trip to Morden village.’
The shop was small but appeared to be well stocked, in the way village stores often were. A wooden counter ran along one wall, behind which stood a dark-haired woman. She looked up as thebell above the counter rang and Harry recognised her as the good Samaritan they had met the weekend before, outside the pub. ‘Hello again,’ she said, her gaze roving from Harry to Oliver in surprise. ‘Don’t tell me you’re still lost.’
Harry laughed. ‘No, we found our way to Ely in the end, thanks to your directions.’
The woman cocked her head. ‘I’m glad to hear that. And yet here you are again.’
‘Yes, we’re staying at Thrumwell Manor,’ Harry explained.
The woman frowned. ‘At the manor?’ Her eyes flicked between them. ‘Mr St John isn’t usually one for taking guests.’
‘My cousin, John, invited us,’ Harry said. ‘Poor Uncle Philip has been so under the weather and John thought a visit might perk him up a bit.’
She nodded, although Harry was not sure she believed her. ‘I did hear he was unwell. Agnes was beside herself with worry last time I saw her, said she thought he’d taken leave of his senses.’ Her gaze narrowed a little. ‘I’m surprised at Mr Archer, inviting you to stay at such a difficult time.’
Harry adopted a tone of carefree jollity. ‘Happily, my uncle is much improved,’ she said. ‘Anyway, we’ve come to collect his tobacco. John told us to ask for Eliza – that’s you, isn’t it?’
The woman did not return her cheeriness. ‘That’s right. But Donaldson usually gets the tobacco. Where is he?’
‘He came down last night but left it too late and you were closed,’ Harry replied. ‘We were coming out for a drive and thought we’d save him a job.’
Eliza pursed her lips. ‘You won’t mind if I call the manor, just to check? We’ve had some strange folk around here lately – you can’t be too careful.’
‘Of course,’ Harry said, waving her hand with blithe unconcern. ‘Call away – they’ll vouch for us.’
She disappeared through a door at the far end of the counter. Moments later, Harry heard the soft murmur of her voice and presumed she was speaking on the telephone. She turned to Oliver. ‘Buy some tobacco,’ she whispered. ‘I want to see if she takes it from the same place as St John’s.’
When Eliza returned, her expression was still guarded but she seemed to have accepted their story. ‘Agnes says it’s fine to give it to you. She also says Mary needs some cornflour, if you wouldn’t mind taking that too.’
‘Not at all,’ Harry said. ‘Anything to help out.’
Eliza took a box of cornflour from the shelf behind her, then reached under the counter for a small, paper-wrapped package. She pushed both across the counter. ‘I’ll add them to the manor bill. Make sure you don’t open the tobacco. Mr St John is very particular about it, so Agnes says.’
Harry let out a little laugh. ‘Oh, believe me, I know. He’s quite the tyrant.’ She turned to Oliver. ‘Didn’t you want some tobacco too? For your pipe.’
The sudden, unbidden image of him puffing at a pipe almost undid her; she had to dig her nails into her palms to stop a wild giggle from escaping. ‘I do,’ Oliver said, with a commendably straight face. ‘How clever of you to remember I’ve run out. I’ll take an ounce of the stuff, if you don’t mind.’
Nodding, Eliza measured the tobacco out and wrapped it. ‘That’s two shillings.’
Oliver handed over the coins and thanked her. ‘I’m very pleased to hear Mr St John is feeling better,’ the woman said. ‘Please do pass on my regards.’
‘I’ll be delighted to,’ Harry replied. ‘He’s still a little frail at the moment but we’re hoping he’ll be back to his old self by the morning.’
Eliza patted the tobacco. ‘This should help, at least.’
‘Thanks,’ Harry said, gathering up the cornflour and packet and leaving Oliver to pick up the tobacco he had bought. ‘Maybe we’ll see you again before we leave.’
‘Maybe,’ Eliza said, with a smile that Harry saw did not quite reach her eyes. ‘If you get lost again.’
