The Twisted Root

at Callandra, lastly and unhappily at Hester.
    "I’m sorry, ma’am." He seemed to be addressing both of them. "I’d rather not have had to place you in this position, but I need to know more about the medicines Mr. Thorpe here says are missing from your apothecary’s room."
    "I didn’t know about it until this morning," Thorpe said furiously, his face pink. "It should have been reported to me at the very first instance. Somebody will answer for this!"
    "I think first we had better see precisely what is provable, Mr. Thorpe," Callandra said coldly. "It does not do to cast accusations around freely before one is certain of the facts. It is too easy to ruin a reputation, and too difficult to mend it again when one discovers mistakes have been made." She stared at him defiantly, daring him to contradict her.
    Thorpe was very conscious of his position as a governor of the hospital and of his innate general superiority. However, he also had an acute social awareness, and Callandra had a title, albeit a courtesy one because of her late father’s position. He decided upon caution, at least for the meantime.
    "Of course, Lady Callandra. We do not yet know the entire situation." He looked sideways at Robb. "I assure you, Sergeant, I shall do all within my power to be of assistance. We must get the facts of the matter and put an end to all dishonesty. I shall assist you myself."
    It was what Hester had feared. It would be so much easier to make light of the losses, even to mislead Robb a little, if Thorpe were not there. She had no idea what the apothecary would do, where his loyalties lay, or how frightened he would be for his own position.
    Thorpe hesitated, and Hester realized with a lurch of hope that he did not know enough about the medicines to conduct the search and inventory without assistance.
    "Perhaps one of us might fetch Mr. Phillips?" she offered. "And perhaps come with you to make notes ... for our own needs. After all, we shall have to attend to the matter and see that it does not happen again. We need to know the truth of it even more than Sergeant Robb does."
    Thorpe grasped the rescue. "Indeed, Mrs. Monk." Suddenly he found he could remember her name without the usual difficulty.
    She smiled at it, but did not remark. Before he could change his mind, she glanced at Callandra, then led the way out of the office and along the wide corridor towards the apothecary’s room. She knew Callandra would fetch Mr. Phillips, and possibly even have a discreet word with him as to the effects upon all of them of whatever he might say. Presumably, he would not yet know of the charge against Cleo Anderson, far less the motive attributed to her.
    She did not dare look at Sergeant Robb. He might too easily guess Callandra’s intention. It was not a great leap of foresight.
    They walked briskly, one behind the other, and she stopped at the apothecary’s door. Naturally, Thorpe had a key, as he had to all doors. He opened the door and stepped in, and they followed behind, crowding into the small space. It was lined with cupboards right up to the ceiling. Each had its brass-bound keyhole, even the drawers beneath the shelf.
    "I am afraid I do not have keys to these," Thorpe said reluctantly. "But as you may see, it is all kept with the utmost safety. I do not know what more we can do, except employ a second apothecary so that there is someone on duty at every moment. Obviously, we may require medicines at night as well as during the day, and no one man can be available around the clock, however diligent."
    "Who has keys at night now?" Robb asked.
    "When Mr. Phillips leaves he passes them to me," Thorpe replied with discomfort, "and I give them to the senior doctor who will remain here at night."
    "From your wording I assume that is not always the same person," Robb concluded.
    "No. We do not operate during the night. Seldom does one of the surgeons remain. Dr. Beck does, on occasion, if he has a particularly severe case. More often it will be a student doctor." He seemed about to add something, then changed his mind. Perhaps he felt the whole hospital under accusation because one of its nurses had been given the opportunity to steal, which had resulted in murder. He would have liked to distance himself from it, and it was plain in his expression.
    "Who gives the medicine during the night?" Robb asked.
    Thorpe was further discomfited. "The doctor on duty."
    "Not a nurse?" Robb looked surprised.
    "Nurses are to keep