Detective and mystery stories, English; Police -- Fiction; Short stories
I was impressed with a belief that Jackson entertained some sinister
design against his youthful and inexperienced lodgers and I determined
to acquaint them with my suspicions. For this purpose Mr. Morgan, who
had a patient living near Jackson's house, undertook to invite them to
tea on some early evening, on the pretence that he had heard of a tavern
that might suit them when they should receive their fortune. Let me
confess, too, that I had another design besides putting the young people
on their guard against Jackson. I thought it very probable that it would
not be difficult to glean from them some interesting and suggestive
particulars concerning the ways, means, practices, outgoings and
incomings, of their worthy landlord's household.
Four more days passed unprofitably away, and I was becoming weary of the
business, when about five o'clock in the afternoon the apothecary
galloped up to his door on a borrowed horse, jumped off with surprising
celerity, and with a face as white as his own magnesia, burst out as he
hurried into the room where I was sitting: "Here's a pretty kettle of
fish! Henry Rogers has been poisoned, and by his wife!"
"Poisoned!"
"Yes, poisoned; although, thanks to my being on the spot I think he will
recover. But I must instantly to Dr. Edwards: I will tell you all when I
return."
The promised "all" was this: Morgan was passing slowly by Jackson's
house, in the hope of seeing either Mr. or Mrs. Rogers, when the
servant-woman, Jane Riddet, ran out and begged him to come in, as their
lodger had been taken suddenly ill. Ill indeed! The surface of his body
was cold as death, and the apothecary quickly discovered that he had
been poisoned with sulphuric acid (oil of vitriol), a quantity of which
he, Morgan, had sold a few days previously to Mrs. Rogers, who, when
purchasing it, said Mr. Jackson wanted it to apply to some warts that
annoyed him. Morgan fortunately knew the proper remedy, and desired
Jackson, who was in the room, and seemingly very anxious and flurried,
to bring some soap instantly, a solution of which he proposed to give
immediately to the seemingly dying man. The woman-servant was gone to
find Mrs. Rogers, who had left about ten minutes before, having first
made the tea in which the poison had been taken. Jackson hurried out of
the apartment, but was gone so long that Morgan, becoming impatient,
scraped a quantity of plaster off the wall, and administered it with the
best effect. At last Jackson came back, and said there was unfortunately
not a particle of soap in the house. A few minutes afterwards the young
wife, alarmed at the woman-servant's tidings, flew into the room in an
agony of alarm and grief. Simulated alarm, crocodile grief, Mr. Morgan
said; for there could, in his opinion, be no doubt that she had
attempted to destroy her husband. Mr. Jackson, on being questioned,
peremptorily denied that he had ever desired Mrs. Rogers to procure
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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