William Monk 09 - A Breach of Promise

ideas, had never said he was prejudiced. And heaven knows, she would have said it had it crossed her mind!
    The doctor’s evidence was finished. It informed them of nothing new.
    The police told of being called over the matter, as was necessary. Melville had apparently been alone all evening. There was no sign whatsoever of anyone else’s having entered her rooms.
    “Was there any evidence of Miss Melville’s having eaten or drunk anything since returning home that evening?” the coroner asked.
    “We saw nothing, sir,” the policeman replied unhappily. “It seemed the young lady had no resident servant. There was nothing out of place. No food had been prepared and there was no crockery or glasses showing as been used.”
    “Did you search for any container for pills or powders, Sergeant?” the coroner pressed.
    “Yes sir, an’ we found nothing except a paper for a headache powder screwed up in the wastepaper basket in the bedroom. We looked very careful, sir. Fair turned the place inside out.”
    “I see. Thank you. You also looked for bottles, I presume? Even clean ones which might have been used and then washed out?”
    “Yes sir. No empty packets, bottles, vials, papers, nothing. And we took away and had tested what was still in use. All harmless domestic stuff as you’d find in most people’s homes.”
    “Very diligent. Have you any idea where Miss Melville obtained the poison which killed her, or where she administered it to herself?”
    “No, sir, we have not.”
    “Thank you. That is all. You may step down.”
    Rathbone looked around again as the sergeant left and the police surgeon was called. Monk sat lost in gloom. He looked about as miserable and angry as Rathbone felt. There was a certain companionship in their silence. Neither of them had the slightest desire to try to express his thoughts in words. It was a vague comfort for Rathbone to know that he was not alone in his struggle to find meaning in this, in his profound unhappiness and sense of having been helpless and inadequate all the way along.
    The police surgeon gave evidence as to his surprise at discovering the deceased was a woman and not a man as she had at first appeared. But she was in every physical way quite normal—indeed, dressed appropriately she would have been ahandsome woman, even beautiful, in her own way. He said it quietly and with great sadness.
    There was a hush in the room as he spoke. Someone coughed. Someone else stifled a nervous giggle and was instantly glared at. People seemed to be both embarrassed and moved by a deep sense of loss and the finality of death.
    “And the cause of Miss Melville’s death?” the coroner asked.
    “Belladonna poisoning, sir,” the surgeon answered without hesitation.
    “Can you be certain of that?”
    “Absolutely. I found traces of belladonna in the deceased’s internal organs. And on examination of the body, every sign led me to consider it as a probable cause of death.”
    “What were the signs?”
    “Widely dilated pupils, exceedingly dry skin, great dryness in the mouth, redness in the face. On examination of the body in autopsy I also found retention of urine and, of course, failure of the heart consistent with the effects of belladonna.” There was an uncomfortable shifting in the court as people imagined the distress and the fear; the immediate physicality of it made it so much more real.
    “The symptoms before death include increased heart rate,” the doctor continued. “Very loud, audible even at a distance from the patient. Often the patient becomes aggressive, disoriented and suffers hallucinations. The police informed me they found one or two items knocked over, consistent with blurred vision.”
    Rathbone sat rigidly, his shoulders hunched, his fists tight. His mind was drenched with misery as he thought of Keelin Melville frightened, half blinded, knowing she was dying, hearing her own heart pound until it burst.
    “Yes … yes. I do not argue with your conclusion, Doctor.” The coroner shook his head, his voice cutting across Rathbone’s thoughts. “If you found belladonna within the body then that is sufficient. How long before death would it havebeen consumed? I take it it was consumed? It was not injected, or absorbed through the skin, or breathed in?”
    “No sir, it was swallowed. Death can take anything from a few hours to a few days, depending on the dose.”
    “And this dose?”
    There was complete silence in the courtroom.