She looked distressed.
“He talked to me once about hashish. That’s cannabis indica, you know, only he called it by the Indian name, bhang. He’d been in India.”
“I think you have been there too, haven’t you?”
“Yes-that is how he came to talk to me about it.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked me if I had ever tried it. He said it gave you wonderful dreams. And of course I told him how dangerous it was, and warned him that it was illegal to use it in this country.”
“And what did he say to that?”
Miss Day gave a slight shiver.
“He looked at me in rather a curious sort of way and said I wasn’t to think he used it, only there were times you liked to feel you’d got something by you that would make you sleep. I felt sorry for him, because I knew that he and his wife were in trouble over their daughter, so I just warned him again as seriously as I could. I didn’t repeat what he said to anyone.”
“When did this conversation take place?”
“Oh, it was a long time ago-when I first came here, quite three years ago.”
“Was it before or after Henry Clayton disappeared?”
She thought for a minute, and then said,
“I think it was after that-but not very long after.”
“Miss Day, did you ever see Robbins under the influence of a drug like hashish?”
She took a minute over that. When she spoke, it was with hesitation.
“His manner was very strange sometimes. I couldn’t say if it was due to a drug.”
“What is the effect of hashish?”
The hesitation continued.
“It is-a narcotic-”
“But it induces dreams?”
“I believe it does.”
“Does it sometimes have an exciting effect?”
“I have heard that it does-I don’t really know much about it.”
“It might induce bad dreams as well as pleasant ones?”
“I suppose it might.”
“Have you never heard of its having that effect?”
“Well-I have-”
“Miss Day, did it ever occur to you that Captain Pilgrim’s nervous attacks might be caused by the administration of some such drug as hashish?”
She cried out at that,
“Oh, don’t! Oh, how dreadful!”
“Did it never occur to you? From what I have heard, the symptoms were all present-heavy sleep, from which he was aroused by distressing dreams to a dazed and abnormal state. That is so, is it not?”
“Yes, but-oh, how dreadful-how wicked!”
“Did that suspicion ever cross your mind?”
She was in considerable distress.
“Not-not until this last attack. I did think when I first came that perhaps the sedative he had been ordered for occasional use-I did wonder whether it was agreeing with him, and Dr. Daly changed it. He didn’t have an attack for some time after that. But when he had this last one I did just think, just suspect-no, it wasn’t as definite as that-I mean I couldn’t really think it-there wasn’t any motive-what motive could there be? Oh, I do hope it isn’t true!”
“Would Robbins have had the opportunity of administering such a drug? You said just now that he sometimes took up Captain Pilgrim’s tea. Did he take up his supper?”
“Oh, yes, always-unless he came down for it.”
“It could, I suppose, be administered in anything that was highly seasoned?”
Lona’s eyes were full of tears. She brought out a handkerchief and dabbed them.
“Oh, yes, I suppose so.” She dabbed again. “I’m sorry, but it does seem so dreadfully wicked. I can’t believe it!”
March said drily,
“Well, it isn’t a thing we can expect to prove. We shall see whether the attacks stop now.”
She let a smile break through and said,
“That would be wonderful!”
March let her go.
chapter 34
As Lona Day went up the main staircase she met Miss Silver coming down, and stopped for a moment to enquire after Mrs. Robbins, and expressed pleasure at hearing that she was lying down and had fallen asleep.
“Judy is sitting with her.”
Lona Day said, “That is very kind. But then Judy is kind- isn’t she?”
She lingered for a moment as if she would have liked to go on talking, but receiving no encouragement from Miss Silver’s silence, she put up a hand to her head and said,
“What a day! It feels like a year since this morning. I hope Miss Netta is having a little nap too-it will do her good. It is so sad that she and her sister are no help to one another. Well, I must go to my real charge, Captain Pilgrim. Those policemen will be coming up to see him any time now. He is being wonderful of course, but I can’t help feeling anxious about him.”
It was a pity that Frank Abbott could not have been there to hear his Miss Silver produce one of her moral maxims. She coughed slightly and remarked that anxiety produced an atmosphere sadly adverse to recovery. After which her beaded slippers took her firmly on her way.
Lona Day found her patient using the telephone extension in his room. She caught no words, but the tone of his voice was warm. As she came in, he said, “Yes-presently then. I’ll ring up when they’ve gone.” He hung up the receiver and turned, to meet an affectionate accusing gaze.
“You know you shouldn’t-you really shouldn’t.”
“And why not? If you think it’s restful to sit still and do nothing with this sort of thing going on in the house, well, I should say there was a hole in your training. You know, I am not really an invalid now.”
He saw the tears come into her eyes.
“It’s just that I’m-well, I expect it’s silly of me, but you’ve come on so far-I don’t want you to slip back. You mustn’t run before you can walk, you know.”
“I haven’t run very far-have I?” He leaned forward and looked at her. “Don’t think I’m ungrateful for all you’ve done for me, Lona, but I’ve got to walk. I don’t say anything about running yet, but you never know.”
The green eyes shining with tears met his.
“You mean that you don’t want me any more?”
Jerome Pilgrim had been an invalid for three and a half years, but for nearly twenty years before that he had been a personable and attractive man. He could recognize an emotional danger signal. He said in a cool, friendly voice,
“My dear Lona, you are much too good a nurse to mean what that implies. You don’t want me to remain an invalid in order to practise on me, do you? To lose a patient doesn’t necessarily mean to lose a friend.”
He heard her say under her breath, “They all say that.” Then, more impulsively, “Oh, you know I didn’t mean it that way! You couldn’t really think so!”
He smiled.
“I didn’t think so.”
“You mustn’t ever. There isn’t anyone in the world who wants you to get well as much as I do. You know, at first I didn’t think you would. Only a nurse mustn’t let herself feel like that, and when you began to get better I was so thankful. And then you didn’t get on as fast as I hoped you would, but I kept on hoping.”
Jerome had an uncomfortable feeling that the temperature of this interview was remaining obstinately high. He made another effort to bring it down.
“We have all a great deal to be thankful for. Do you know where the Superintendent is? I haven’t seen him yet, and I should like to do so. I think when he arrived you told him I was resting.” He smiled again. “That sort of thing isn’t necessary, you know. I am quite ready to see him as soon as he finds it convenient.”
For a moment he wondered whether she was going to flare up. She coloured, met his eyes with something of a blaze in hers, and then suddenly turned round and went out of the room, leaving him to reflect wryly that women were incalculable creatures. What a moment to choose for a scene! As if there was not enough without that! He supposed that all their nerves were strung up and ready to jangle at a touch. Only Lesley was herself-calm, strong, lovable, and loving. The thought of her was like fresh air to a prisoner, cool water to a thirsty man. The few words he had had with her on the telephone were a link with all that was wholesome, normal, hopeful. And presently she would come over, and they would have a quiet time together when all this police business had been got through.