Page 93 of The Sins of the Wolf (William Monk 5)

“There was nothing to suggest it, no sir. I would think it was taken quite voluntarily. I imagine the deceased lady had no idea whatever that it would do her harm.”

“But you have no doubt that it was indeed the cause of her death?”

“No doubt whatsoever.”

“Thank you, Dr. Ormorod. I have no further questions for you.”

Argyll thanked Gilfeather and faced Dr. Ormorod.

“Sir, your evidence has been admirably clear and to the point. I have only one question to ask you. It is this. I assume you examined the medicine chest from which the deceased’s dose had been taken? Yes. Naturally you did. How many vials were there in it, sir … both full and empty?”

Ormorod thought for a moment, furrowing his brow.

“There were ten full vials, sir, and two empty.”

“Are you quite sure?”

“Yes … yes, I am positive.”

“Would you describe their appearance, sir?”

“Appearance?” Ormorod clearly did not see any purpose to the question.

“Yes, Doctor; what did they look like?”

Ormorod held up his hand, finger and thumb apart. “About two, two and a half inches long, three quarters of an inch in diameter, sir. Very unremarkable, very ordinary medical vials.”

“Of glass?”

“I have said so.”

“Clear glass?”

“No sir, dark blue colored glass, as is customary when a substance is poisonous, or can be if taken ill-advisedly.”

“Easy to see if a vial is full or empty?”

At last Ormorod understood. “No sir. Half full, perhaps; but completely full or quite empty would appear exactly the same, no line of liquid to observe.”

“Thank you, Doctor. We may presume one of them was used by Miss Latterly on the previous evening, the other we may never know … unless Miss McDermot should choose to tell us.”

“Mr. Argyll!” the judge said angrily. “You may presume what you please, but you will not do it aloud in my court. Here we will have evidence only. And Miss McDermot has said nothing about the subject.”

“Yes, my lord,” Argyll said unrepentantly. The damage was done, and they all knew it.

Ormorod said nothing.

Argyll thanked him and excused him. He left somewhat reluctantly. He had enjoyed his moment in the limelight.

On the third day Gilfeather called Mary Farraline’s own doctor to describe her illness, its nature and duration, and to swear that there was no reason why she should not have lived several more years of happy and fulfilled life. There were all the appropriate murmurs of sympathy. He described the medicine he had prescribed for her, and the dosage.

Argyll said nothing.

The apothecary who had prepared the medicine was called, and described his professional services in detail.

Again Argyll said nothing, except to ascertain that the medicine could have been distilled to become more concentrated, and thus twice as powerful, while still in the same volume of liquid, and that it did not need a nurse’s medical knowledge or skills to do so. It was all totally predictable.

Hester sat in the dock watching and listening. Half of her wished that it could be over. It was like a ritual dance, only in words, everyone taking a carefully rehearsed and foreordained part. It had a nightmarish quality, because she could only observe. She could take no part in it, although it was her life they were deciding. She was the only one who could not go home at the end of it, and would certainly not do it all again next week, or next month, but over a different matter, and with different players walking on and off.