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Authors: Elizabeth Peters
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his arms, and stared fixedly at the individual lying on the bed.
Someone, presumably the doctor, had loosened his cravat and opened his shirt. The rise and fall of his breast was so slight as to be almost imperceptible. His countenance was pale, but not deathly white, and his lips were curved in a faint enigmatic smile. Beard and hair framed his face like a fallen halo.
“Damnation,” said Emerson.
I had, of course, anticipated that it would be he.
T HE REVEREND’S HEARTBEAT WAS faint but steady, his respiration slow but regular. His temperature was normal. There were no needle marks on his arms. When I delicately raised one eyelid, I found myself staring into a placid blue orb, the pupil neither dilated nor shrunken. He lay limp and acquiescent as a stuffed doll as I moved him about.
Mrs. Finney watched the proceedings in pleasurable horror. No doubt she hoped for a convulsion or a death rattle. Two of the maids peeked in through the door, which I had left ajar.
“No smell of prussic acid?” inquired Emerson. “No gaping wounds? Broken bones? Pools of blood?”
I had proceeded to the next stage of the examination. “Not a pool,” I said, withdrawing the hand I had inserted between the pillow and the back of the reverend’s skull. “I doubt there was much blood to begin with, and it will have dried by now. Emerson, stopswearing—there are ladies present—and help me turn his head. Carefully, if you please.”
The injury was on the side of the head, above and behind the right ear. Mrs. Finney clapped her hands to her mouth when she saw the small stain on the pillow. “Cold water and lemon juice,” I said over my shoulder and then addressed Emerson. “There appears to be no damage to the skull and only a small abrasion. The blow was hard enough to have resulted in a concussion, but the symptoms are not—”
“He may have fallen,” said Emerson desperately. “Hit his head and—”
“Hit it on what, while he was doing what? Banging his head against the mantel, which is of wood? Washing his hands in a china basin which is at waist height? There is nothing in the room hard enough or blunt enough to have caused such trauma.”
“Curse it,” said Emerson.
“Oh dear, oh dear,” lamented Mrs. Finney.
I N MY OPINION WE had no choice but to remove Papagopolous to Amarna House. Emerson did not share in this opinion but gave in, simmering silently, when I pointed out that we could not leave him on Mrs. Finney’s hands, and that the nearest hospital was a good twenty miles distant. I also wanted Nefret’s opinion, for though my experience is extensive, her training was more up-to-date. While we awaited the arrival of the makeshift ambulance, I questioned the good landlady and made a thorough search of the room, announcing my deductions aloud and countering Emerson’s objections as he made them. (I have found this saves time in the long run.)
According to Mrs. Finney, the gentleman had arrived at six the previous night. He had refused her offer of refreshment and asked not to be disturbed until morning. Therefore the assailant had notwaited for darkness, which was not complete until approximately ten o’clock, before entering the room…
(Emerson: “Jumping to conclusions again, Peabody.” Myself: “He had not unpacked nor prepared to retire. What was he doing for three or four hours?” Emerson: “Taking a nap, praying, scratching his…” Myself: “Never mind, Emerson.”)
The attacker must have entered through the door, since the room was on the second floor and the window was inaccessible from below.
(Emerson: “Ladder.” Myself: “How would he know where to find one? How could he ascend without being observed, or climb in through a window without arousing the suspicions of his victim?” Emerson: “Hmph.”)
It would not have been difficult for the assassin to gain entry to the room. He had only to wait until Mrs. Finney left the desk to attend to her other duties, inspect
Someone, presumably the doctor, had loosened his cravat and opened his shirt. The rise and fall of his breast was so slight as to be almost imperceptible. His countenance was pale, but not deathly white, and his lips were curved in a faint enigmatic smile. Beard and hair framed his face like a fallen halo.
“Damnation,” said Emerson.
I had, of course, anticipated that it would be he.
T HE REVEREND’S HEARTBEAT WAS faint but steady, his respiration slow but regular. His temperature was normal. There were no needle marks on his arms. When I delicately raised one eyelid, I found myself staring into a placid blue orb, the pupil neither dilated nor shrunken. He lay limp and acquiescent as a stuffed doll as I moved him about.
Mrs. Finney watched the proceedings in pleasurable horror. No doubt she hoped for a convulsion or a death rattle. Two of the maids peeked in through the door, which I had left ajar.
“No smell of prussic acid?” inquired Emerson. “No gaping wounds? Broken bones? Pools of blood?”
I had proceeded to the next stage of the examination. “Not a pool,” I said, withdrawing the hand I had inserted between the pillow and the back of the reverend’s skull. “I doubt there was much blood to begin with, and it will have dried by now. Emerson, stopswearing—there are ladies present—and help me turn his head. Carefully, if you please.”
The injury was on the side of the head, above and behind the right ear. Mrs. Finney clapped her hands to her mouth when she saw the small stain on the pillow. “Cold water and lemon juice,” I said over my shoulder and then addressed Emerson. “There appears to be no damage to the skull and only a small abrasion. The blow was hard enough to have resulted in a concussion, but the symptoms are not—”
“He may have fallen,” said Emerson desperately. “Hit his head and—”
“Hit it on what, while he was doing what? Banging his head against the mantel, which is of wood? Washing his hands in a china basin which is at waist height? There is nothing in the room hard enough or blunt enough to have caused such trauma.”
“Curse it,” said Emerson.
“Oh dear, oh dear,” lamented Mrs. Finney.
I N MY OPINION WE had no choice but to remove Papagopolous to Amarna House. Emerson did not share in this opinion but gave in, simmering silently, when I pointed out that we could not leave him on Mrs. Finney’s hands, and that the nearest hospital was a good twenty miles distant. I also wanted Nefret’s opinion, for though my experience is extensive, her training was more up-to-date. While we awaited the arrival of the makeshift ambulance, I questioned the good landlady and made a thorough search of the room, announcing my deductions aloud and countering Emerson’s objections as he made them. (I have found this saves time in the long run.)
According to Mrs. Finney, the gentleman had arrived at six the previous night. He had refused her offer of refreshment and asked not to be disturbed until morning. Therefore the assailant had notwaited for darkness, which was not complete until approximately ten o’clock, before entering the room…
(Emerson: “Jumping to conclusions again, Peabody.” Myself: “He had not unpacked nor prepared to retire. What was he doing for three or four hours?” Emerson: “Taking a nap, praying, scratching his…” Myself: “Never mind, Emerson.”)
The attacker must have entered through the door, since the room was on the second floor and the window was inaccessible from below.
(Emerson: “Ladder.” Myself: “How would he know where to find one? How could he ascend without being observed, or climb in through a window without arousing the suspicions of his victim?” Emerson: “Hmph.”)
It would not have been difficult for the assassin to gain entry to the room. He had only to wait until Mrs. Finney left the desk to attend to her other duties, inspect
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