Hickory Dickory Dock

"We are fairly sure that she did not poison herself," said Sharpe. "You know where the poison came from?" Jean nodded.

"I gather it came from St. Catherine's Hospital, where she works. But surely that makes it seem more like suicide?" "It was intended to, no doubt," said the Inspector.

"But who else could possibly have got that poison except Celia?" "Quite a lot of people," said Inspector Sharpe, "if they were determined to do so. Even you, yourself, Miss Tomlinson," he said, "might have managed to help yourself to it if you had wished to do so." "Really, Inspector Sharpe!" Jean's tones were sharp with indi nation.

"Well, you visited the Dispensary fairly often, didn't you, Miss Tomlinson?" "I went in there to see Mildred Carey, yes.

But naturally I would never have dreamed of tampering with the poison cupboard." "But you could have done so?" "I certainly couldn't have done anything of the kind!" "Oh, come now, Miss Tomlinson. Say that your friend was busy packing up the ward baske greater-than ts and the other girl was at the Outpatients window. There are frequent times when there are only two dispensers in the front room. You could have wandered casually round the back of the shelves of bottles that run across the middle of the floor. You could have nipped a hottle out of the cupboard and into your pocket, and neither of the two dispensers would have dreamed of what you had done." "I resent what you say very much, Inspector Sharpe. It's-it's a-disgraceful accusation." "But it's not an accusation, Miss Tomlinson.

It's nothing of the kind. You mustn't misunderstand me.

You said to me that it wasn't possible for you to do such a thing, and I'm trying to show you that it was possible. I'm not suggesting for a moment that you did do so. After all," he added, "why should you?" "Quite so. You don't seem to rearise, Inspector Sharpe, that I was a friend of Celia's." "Quite a lot of people get poisoned by their friends.

There's a certain question we have to ask ourselves sometimes.

'When is a friend not a friend?" "There was no disagreement between me and Celia, nothing of the kind. I liked her very much." "Had you any reason to suspect it was she who had been responsible for these thefts in the house?" "No, indeed. I was never so surprised in my life. I always thought Celia had high principles. I wouldn't have dreamed of her doing such a thin,." "Of course," said Sharpe, watching her carefully, "kleptomaniacs can't really help themselves, can they?" Jean Tomlinson's lips pursed themselves together even more closely. Then she opened them and spoke.

"I can't say I can quite subscribe to that idea, Inspector Sharpe. I'm old-fashioned in my views and believe that stealing is stealin,." "You think that Celia stole things because, frankly, she wanted to take them?" "Certainly I db." "Plain dishonest, in fact?" "I'm afraid so." "Ah!" said Inspector Sharpe, shaking his head.

"That's bad." "Yes, it's always upsetting when you feel you're disappointed in anyone." "There was a question, I understand, of our being called in-the police, I, mean." "Yes. That would have been the right thing to do, in my opinion." "Perliandps you think it ought to have been done anyway?" "I think it would have been the right thing. Yes, I don't think, you know, people ought to be allowed to get away with these things." "With calling oneself a kleptomaniac when one is really a thief, do you mean?" "Well, more or less, yes-that is what I mean." "Instead of which everything was ending happily and Miss Austin had wedding bells ahead." "Of course, one isn't surprised at anything Colin Mcationabb does," said Jean Tomlinson viciously. "I'm sure he's an atheist and a most disbelieving, mocking, unpleasant young man. He's rude to everybody. It's my opinion that he's a Communist!" "Ah!" said Inspeetor Sharpe. "Bad!" He shook his head.

"He backed up Celia, I think, because he hasn't got any proper feeling about property.

He probably thinks everyone should help themselves to everything they want." "Still, at any rate," said Inspector Sharpe, "Miss Austin did own up." "After she was found out. Yes," said Jean, sharply.

"Who found her out?" "That Mr.-what-was-his-name Poirot, who came." "But why do you think he found her out, Miss Tomlinson? He didn't say so. He just advised calling in the police." "He must have shown her that he knew. She obviously knew the game was up and rushed off to confess." "What about the ink on Elizabeth Johnston's papers?

Did she confess to that?" "I really don't know. I suppose so." "You suppose wrong," said Sharpe. "She denied most vehemently that she had anythin, to do with that." "Well, perhaps that may be so. I must say it doesn't seem very likely." "You think it is more likely that it was Nigel Chapman?" "No, I don't think Nigel would do that either.

I think it's much more likely to be Mr.