Free Latter End by Patricia Wentworth

Latter.”
    He rubbed the bridge of his nose.
    “Yes—I know—one does things like that, and then when you get there you feel that you are making a fool of yourself.”
    The smile came again.
    “Does that matter very much? I shall not think so.”
    He said, “Oh, well—” and began to fidget with a bunch of keys he had fished out of his pocket. “You see, I heard about you last year from Stella Dundas—she’s a kind of cousin of mine. She couldn’t say enough about you.”
    Miss Silver’s needles clicked. Derek’s sock revolved. She held her hands low, knitting with great rapidity in the Continental manner.
    “I was very glad to be able to help Mrs. Dundas. It was quite a trifling matter.”
    “Not to her, it wasn’t—she thought a lot of those pearls. She said it was marvellous the way you spotted the thief.”
    Miss Silver inclined her head.
    “Have you had something stolen, Mr. Latter?”
    “Well, no, I haven’t.” He jingled the keys. “As a matter of fact it’s something a good bit more serious than that. Look here, if I tell you about it, it will be all in confidence, won’t it?”
    Miss Silver gave her slight cough.
    “Naturally, Mr. Latter. That is understood.”
    He hesitated, swinging the key-ring to and fro.
    “I suppose you get told some pretty queer things?”
    She smiled again.
    “You must not ask me what my other clients say.”
    “Oh, no, of course not—I didn’t mean that. But this isn’t a thing to be talked about. The fact is, I don’t believe it myself, and it worries me. It’s about Lois—my wife. She thinks someone is trying to poison her.”
    Miss Silver said, “Dear me!” And then, “What makes her think so?”
    Jimmy Latter rumpled his hair.
    “Well, it all began with her going to that fellow Memnon. I expect you’ve heard of him.”
    Miss Silver coughed disapprovingly and said, “Oh, yes.”
    “Well, he told her to beware of poison. But she didn’t think anything about it, you know—not until she began to have these queer attacks.”
    “What kind of attacks?”
    He looked very worried indeed, and he sounded worried, too.
    “Nausea and retching. She’s never had anything like them before, and they come on just for nothing at all.”
    “Has she seen a doctor?”
    “No—she won’t do that.”
    “Why not?”
    “She says what’s the use? If there is someone trying to poison her, he can’t stop them—there isn’t anything one can do—well, is there? That’s what she says.”
    “I cannot agree as to that. I should like to hear a little more about these attacks. When did she have the first one?”
    “About a fortnight ago. She’d been up in town, and she went to see this fellow Memnon, and he warned her like I told you. She came back home—we were having a family party. After dinner, when we were all sitting in the drawing-room, she suddenly ran out of the room. She came back again presently, and I didn’t know what had happened until afterwards, but it seems she had been very sick. That was the first time.”
    Miss Silver coughed.
    “How long was she away from the room?”
    Jimmy dropped the keys and bent to pick them up.
    “About a quarter of an hour—not more.”
    “You noticed that particularly?”
    “I always notice when she isn’t there.”
    “And how did she seem when she returned?”
    He said with complete simplicity,
    “I thought how beautiful she looked.”
    Miss Silver knitted for a moment in silence. Then she enquired,
    “Did anyone see her during the attack?”
    “Oh, yes, Minnie Mercer did—Miss Mercer.”
    “I will ask you to explain your household presently. You say that you were a family party. Just now I would like to know whether Mrs. Latter had anything to eat or drink which the rest of the family did not.”
    “Only the coffee,” said Jimmy Latter.

CHAPTER 11
    When Miss Silver had elicited that Mrs. Latter was the only one of the household who took Turkish coffee, and that in fact only one other person had taken