“I never believed she was poisoned. Not deliberately. Some kinds of food poisoning act the same way. I looked it up. She’d come back from Florida the day before. She might have eaten something on the train.”

“The doctor doesn’t think so.”

“That young whippersnapper! What does he know?”

The inspector picked up a paper from his desk. “This is Doctor Brooke’s statement,” he said. He read: “‘Showed usual symptoms arsenical poisoning, heat and burning pain; was vomiting and very thirsty. When I saw her her pulse was feeble and she showed signs of collapse. Had severe cramps in legs. I gave her an emetic and washed out her stomach. Reinsch’s test later showed arsenious acid, commonly known as white arsenic. I also found it in the sugar bowl on her tray. At request of family made no report to the police.’”

“Oh, my God!” said Carlton feebly.

He sat clutching the arms of his chair, hardly hearing what they asked him. He looked smaller than ever, as though he had been deflated, and his replies were almost monosyllabic.

“Do you know anything about this campaign to terrify your mother? The bats, I mean.”

“No. Nothing.”

“Nor how they were introduced into the room?”

“No.”

“I’ll ask that another way. Have you any suspicions as to how or why they were being used?”

And at that he blew up.

“No. No!” he shouted. “What are you trying to do to me? Make me confess to something I never did? I didn’t poison my mother. I didn’t kill her with a knife. I don’t know anything about your damned animals. I don’t know anybody cruel enough to—”

His voice broke. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He mopped at them helplessly with his handkerchief.

“I’m sorry, gentlemen,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make a fool of myself. I was up all night, and I haven’t eaten anything today.”

They gave him a little time. He lit a cigarette and tried to smile.

“All right,” he said. “I guess I can take it now.”

But they got nothing of importance from him, except a pretty thorough idea that he was keeping something back. They did not hold him, however. At eight o’clock that night the inspector drove him home. They stopped and had something to eat on the way, and Carlton drank two neat whiskies. He looked better when they reached the house.

There was no one in sight. Marian, after having her room cleaned and aired, had retired to it and locked her door. Jan had gone with Courtney Brooke to see Eileen, and Hilda was packing her suitcase, preparatory to leaving, when she got the word. But Susie was waiting in the library. When she heard the car she flew out at the inspector like a wild creature.

“So you’ve had him!” she said. “The only one in this house who loved his mother, and you pick on him! If you’ve done anything to him you’ll be sorry. Good and sorry.”