do, most awfully. I feel that somehow or other we ought to have prevented this.”
“I think that’s foolish of you,” said Tuppence. “It is not as though we had advised Lois Hargreaves not to go to Scotland Yard or anything like that. Nothing would have induced her to bring the police into the matter. If she hadn’t come to us, she would have done nothing at all.”
“And the result would have been the same. Yes, you are right, Tuppence. It’s morbid to reproach oneself over something one couldn’t help. What I would like to do is to make good now.”
“And that’s not going to be easy.”
“No, it isn’t. There are so many possibilities, and yet all of them seem wild and improbable. Supposing Dennis Radclyffe put the poison in the sandwiches. He knew he would be out to tea. That seems fairly plain sailing.”
“Yes,” said Tuppence, “that’s all right so far. Then we can put against that the fact that he was poisoned himself—so that seems to rule him out. There is one person we mustn’t forget—and that is Hannah.”
“Hannah?”
“People do all sorts of queer things when they have religious mania.”
“She is pretty far gone with it too,” said Tommy. “You ought to drop a word to Dr. Burton about it.”
“It must have come on very rapidly,” said Tuppence. “That is if we go by what Miss Logan said.”
“I believe religious mania does,” said Tommy. “I mean, you go on singing hymns in your bedroom with the door open for years, and then you go suddenly right over the line and become violent.”