The Sins of the Wolf - Anne Perry [131]
“But what did you do, sir?” Gilfeather insisted.
Ormorod returned his attention to the matter. “I conducted an examination, sir, in some considerable detail.” Again he waited, for dramatic effect.
Gilfeather kept his composure.
Rathbone swore under his breath.
Argyll sighed silently, but his expression was easily readable.
Ormorod’s face tightened. This was not the reaction he had intended.
“It took me a long time,” he said tightly. “And I was obliged to conduct a full postmortem examination, most particularly the contents of the stomach of the deceased. But I concluded that there was no doubt whatsoever that Mrs. Farraline had met her death as a result of having been given a massive overdose of her usual medicine, a distillation of digitalis.”
“How massive a dose, sir? Can you say?”
“At least twice what any responsible practitioner would prescribe for her,” Ormorod answered.
“And you have no doubt of that?” Gilfeather persisted.
“None whatsoever. But you do not need to rest on my opinion alone, sir. The police surgeon will have told you the same.”
“Yes sir. We have the result of that to be read into evidence,” Gilfeather assured Mm. “And it confirms precisely what you say.”
Ormorod smiled and nodded.
“Did you form any opinion as to how it had been administered?”
“By mouth, sir.”
“Was any force used?”
“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