Free Grave Mistake by Ngaio Marsh Page B

came I did, on request, prescribe phenorbarbiturates at night to help her sleep but after her first week they were discontinued as she had no further need of them. I apologize for the digression but I felt it was perhaps indicated.”
    “Quite. Quite. Quite,” chattered the complacent coroner.
    “Well then, to continue. When we had done what had to be done, I got into touch with another doctor. The local practitioners were all engaged or out but finally I reached Dr. Field-Innis of Upper Quintern. He very kindly drove over and together we made further examination.”
    “Finding?”
    “Finding that she had died of an overdose. There was no doubt of it, at all. We found three half-dissolved tablets at the back of the mouth and one on the tongue. She must have taken the tablets four or five at a time and lost consciousness before she could swallow the last ones.”
    “Dr. Field-Innis is present, is he not?”
    “He is,” Basil said with a little bow in the right direction. Dr. Field-Innis bobbed up and down in his seat.
    “Thank you very much, Dr. Schramm,” said the coroner with evident respect.
    Dr. Field-Innis was called.
    Verity watched him push his glasses up his nose and tip back his head to adjust his vision just as he always did after he had listened to one’s chest. He was nice. Not in the least dynamic or lordly, but nice. And conscientious. And, Verity thought, at the moment very clearly ill at ease.
    He confirmed everything that Basil Schramm had deposed as to the state of the room and the body and the conclusion they had drawn and added that he himself had been surprised and shocked by the tragedy.
    “Was the deceased a patient of yours, Dr. Field-Innis?”
    “She consulted me about four months ago.”
    “On what score?”
    “She felt unwell and was nervy. She complained of migraine, sleeplessness and general anxiety. I prescribed a mild barbiturate.
Not
the proprietary tranquilizer she was found to have taken that evening, by the way.” He hesitated for a moment. “I suggested that she should have a general overhaul,” he said.
    “Had you any reason to suspect there was something serious the matter?”
    There was a longer pause. Dr. Field-Innis looked for a moment at Prunella. She sat between Gideon and Verity, who thought, irrelevantly, that like all blondes, especially when they were as pretty as Prunella, mourning greatly became her.
    “That,” said Dr. Field-Innis, “is not an easy question to answer. There were, I thought, certain possible indications: very slight indeed, that should be followed up.”
    “What were they?”
    “A gross tremor in the hands. That does not necessarily imply a conspicuous tremor. And — this is difficult to define — a certain appearance in the face. I must emphasize that this was slight and possibly of no moment but I had seen something of the sort before and felt it should not be disregarded.”
    “What might these symptoms indicate, Dr. Field-Innis? A stroke?” hazarded the coroner.
    “Not necessarily.”
    “Anything else?”
    “I say this with every possible reservation. But yes. Just possibly — Parkinson’s disease.”
    Prunella gave a strange little sound, half cry, half sigh. Gideon took her hand.
    The coroner asked: “And did the deceased, in fact follow your advice?”
    “No. She said she would think it over. She did not consult me again.”
    “Had she any idea you suspected—?”
    “Certainly not,” Dr. Field-Innis said loudly. “
I
gave no indication whatever. It would have been most improper to do so.”
    “Have you discussed the matter with Dr. Schramm?”
    “It has been mentioned, yes.”
    “Had Dr. Schramm remarked these symptoms?” The coroner turned politely to Basil Schramm. “Perhaps,” he said, “we may ask?”
    He stood up. “I had noticed the tremor,” he said. “On her case-history and on what she had told me, I attributed this to the general nervous condition.”
    “Quite,” said the coroner. “So,