Death in High Heels by Christianna Brand Page A

for the job, I believe?”
    “Irene Best? Did she tell you so? Well, that really is rather pathetic. There was a slight chance for her, I suppose, if Mr. Bevan hadn’t been able to spare either Miss Doon or myself; and she had a certain amount of experience and had managed the showroom here—under Mr. Cecil—for quite a long time. But as I pointed out to Mr. Bevan, she was quite impossible for the post: I didn’t like doing it, of course, but it was my duty to show him that she really wouldn’t have done. Poor little thing, she has no personality, you see, and after all it is rather important in a position like that to have presence and a certain amount of charm , if you see what I mean, and after all, poor little Mrs. Best is even quite—well, you can see for yourself.…”
    “What the devil is she gassing about?” thought Bedd, as Gregory’s voice grew lower and more confidential. “I believe she’s taken quite a fancy to our Charles. What a hope she’s got, with all these daisies flying about! Better do some rescue work ’ere, I think. “Well, now, Mr. Charlesworth, sir,” he announced, with much preliminary clearing of his throat, “there’s one more witness for us to see, Miss Doon’s seckerterry; and then we’ll be finished, sir.” “’Igh time too,” he added inwardly, glancing at his watch. “Does she think we’ve got all night to spend listening to ’er running down ’er girl friends?”
    “Good work, stout Cortez,” said Charlesworth, as soon as they were alone. “I was getting quite frightened. She came so close that I thought she was going to eat my face. Ye gods, what’s this?” he added, as Macaroni came wailing up the stairs.
    Kindness, sternness, terrorism, nothing could abate Macaroni’s sobs. Charlesworth was quite impressed by the magnitude of her grief. “To think that I should have carried the poison to her my self !” howled Macaroni, and would not be comforted. They gave it up at last and contented themselves with extracting their information through her tears.
    “You took the packet from Mrs. Gay and put it in your pocket. What happened next?”
    “Mr. Bevan came in,” sobbed Macaroni, with a fresh outburst of weeping at the memory of this awful contretemps.
    “And what did you do then?”
    “I ran downstairs and I gave the powder to Miss Doon and she put it in the left-hand drawer of her desk, because she keeps that locked, you see, and then she locked the drawer and I don’t know anything more about it.”
    The sergeant went down to fetch it. “Is this all there was?” asked Charlesworth, holding the packet out before her.
    “Yes, that’s all.”
    “Well, now, look carefully. We don’t want any mistakes. Is this the way the paper was screwed up?”
    Macaroni gazed at it with tearful eyes. “Yes, just like that.”
    “You don’t think it’s been touched since Miss Doon put it in her drawer?”
    “I don’t think so,” said Macaroni, lugubriously.
    Charlesworth opened the paper and displayed a small quantity of powdered crystals within. “Would you say that this was the exact amount you were given? Think very carefully before you answer.”
    This second admonition was too much for Macaroni. She burst into tears again and all that could be heard was that it was too, too dreadful to think that she should have been the means of poisoning her dear Miss Doon.
    “But, my child, you say that none of the poison has gone; so it can’t have been any of the lot that you took down to her.”
    “There might be a few grains less.”
    “A few grains less wouldn’t make the slightest difference as far as you’re concerned. A few grains wouldn’t kill a person. What you mean is, not that you think there are a few grains less, but that if there were, you couldn’t be sure of telling; isn’t that right?”
    “Well, yes.”
    “And you’re quite certain that there isn’t any substantial difference between the packet as you gave it to her and as it is