Chapter 7 Chapter 7 Narrow Escape

Frankie parked her big green Bentley by the embankment in front of a large old house with St. Asaph's Hospital marked on the door. Frankie jumped out of the car, turned and took out a large bouquet of lilies, and rang the doorbell.A woman in a nurse's outfit opened the door. "Can I see Mr. Jones?" Frankie asked. The nurse looked at the Bentley, Lily, and Frankie with intense interest. "What name shall I announce?" "Miss Frances de Winter." There was a surge of excitement in the nurse, and she figured her patient was up.She took Frankie upstairs and into a room on the second floor.

"You've got a visit, Mr. Jones. Come to think of it, who could it be? It'll be a surprise to you." All of this is "well-behaved" as far as the nursing room is concerned. "My God!" exclaimed Bobby, in great amazement, "it's Frankie!" "Hello, Bobby, the flowers I bring are very common, slightly associated with a cemetery, I can't choose." "Oh, Miss Frances," said the Nurse, "these are lovely flowers. I'll go and put them in the water." She left the room. Frankie was seated in a chair apparently reserved for visitors.

"Well, Bobby," she said, "what's the matter?" "You're a good question," said Bobby. "I'm a local hit. Eight morphines, no less. They're going to write me in magazines and the BMJ." "What's BMJ?" Frange interrupted Bobby. "The British Medical Journal." "Excellent. Go on." "You know, my girl, half a pill of morphine kills. I should have died about sixteen times. It would be nice to experience consciousness after sixteen pills, but well, eight pills are fine, you Don’t think so? I’ve become a hero of the place, and they’ve never dealt with a case like mine before.”

"It's wonderful for them." "Isn't it? Gives them something to talk about with all their patients." The nurse came in again and put the lilies in the vase. "That's true, isn't it, nurse?" asked Bobby. "You've never had a patient like me, have you?" "Oh! You shouldn't be here at all," said the nurse. "You should be in the churchyard. They say good people don't live long." She chuckled at her own quip, and went out. "That's it," said Bobby, "you'll see, and I'll make a name for myself in England."

He talked on and on, and the inferiority complex he had shown the last time he saw Frankie was completely gone now.He recounted every detail of his illness in a firm, self-pleasing tone. "Enough," said Frankie, stopping him. "I don't really care about the horror of stomach pumps. From what you've said, it makes one think nobody's ever been poisoned before." "Very few people get well from eight pills of morphine," said Bobby. "Forget it, you're not getting the full experience." "The person who poisoned you was quite uncomfortable," said Frankie.

"I see. Wasted the best morphine." "The morphine's in the beer, isn't it?" "Yes. Well, I was found dead asleep and tried to wake me up but couldn't. Then they freaked out and took me to a farmhouse and called for a doctor..." "I know all about the second half," said Frankie hastily. "At first they thought I took some medicine on purpose. Later, after listening to my account, they went out to find a beer bottle. They found it at the place where I threw the bottle and asked someone to conduct a test. The remainder of the bottle was obviously enough for testing. gone."

"No clue how the morphine got in the bottle?" "No. They visited the store where I bought the wine and opened other bottles, but they were all fine." "Someone must have put morphine in the bottle while you were asleep." "That's right. I don't remember the seal on the top of the bottle being very tight." Frankie nodded thoughtfully. "Well," she said, "it turns out I was right about what I said on the train that day." "what did you say?" "The man named Pritchard was pushed off the cliff." "That wasn't on the train, you said it on the platform," said Bobby feebly. "That's the same thing."

"but why……" "Honey, it's obvious why anyone would want to kill you? You're not the heir to a fortune or anything." "Maybe. Some great aunt in New Zealand or something I've never heard of might leave me all her money." "Nonsense. Don't keep money without acquaintance. If she doesn't know you, why leave money to a fourth-ranked nephew? Alas, in these difficult times, it is impossible for even a priest to have a rank Son of the fourth! No, it is all clear that no one will benefit from your death, so it is excluded. Then only revenge, and you have not seduced some chemist's daughter by chance?"

"I don't remember anything like that," said Bobby with dignity. "I see. Too many seductions to remember. I should venture to say, though, that you never seduced anyone." "You're making me blush, Frankie. After all, why must it be the chemist's daughter?" "Easy to get morphine. Because it's not that easy to get morphine." "Come on, I didn't seduce the chemist's daughter." "As far as you know, you haven't had any enemies with anyone, have you?" Bobby shook his head. "Oh, so," said Frankie triumphantly, "it must have something to do with the man who was thrown off the cliff. What do the police think?"

"They thought it must have been done by a madman." "Ridiculous. A madman wouldn't be wandering around with so much morphine and find leftover beer bottles to put the morphine in. It wouldn't be like that, but someone pushed Pritchard off a cliff and you come over in a minute or two Well, he thought you saw what he did, so he decided to kill you." "I don't think that's a good idea, Frankie." "Why is it unreliable?" "Well, I haven't seen anything since the beginning." "Yes, but he doesn't know that."

"If I had seen something, I would have said it at the hearing." "I suppose so," said Frankie reluctantly. She thought for a minute or two. "Maybe he thinks you've seen something you don't think is great, but it's really important. That sounds like gibberish, do you understand?" Bobby nodded. "Yes, I see what you mean, but it seems very unlikely." "I'm sure the cliff incident had something to do with it. You were there, the first person there..." "Thomas was there, too," Bobby reminded Frankie, "but no one tried to poison him." "Maybe they're planning to do it," said Frankie excitedly. "Maybe they tried and failed." "It seems very far-fetched to say that." "I think it's logical. If you're in a backwater like Marchbolt, and you have two outliers, wait, there's a third." "What's up?" "About offering you a job. It's a small thing, of course, but odd, you have to admit. I've never heard of a foreign company specifically looking for obscure ex-Navy officers." "You say I'm not famous?" "You weren't in BMJ back then. But you get my point. You saw something you didn't intend to see, and maybe they (whoever it was) thought so. Well, first they tried to They offer a job abroad to get rid of you. Then, when that doesn't work, they try to get you out of the way." "Isn't this too extreme? Anyway, it's taking a great risk?" "Ah! Killers are always amazingly reckless. The more they kill, the more they want to kill." "Like The Third Bloodstain." Bobby remembered one of his favorite novels. "Yes, in real life too, Smith and his wife, Armstrong and others." "Come on, Frankie, but what do people think I saw anyway?" "Of course, that's hard to say," Frankie admitted. "I agree that the actual pushing motion couldn't have been seen, but you'll tell the story. It must have something to do with the dead man himself. Perhaps he had Birthmarks, syndactyly, or some abnormal physical feature." "I reckon you've got Dr. Thorndike in your head. It can't be, because whatever I see, the police see too." "They'll see. It's a stupid idea. It's a hard thing, isn't it?" "The speculation is satisfying," said Bobby, "and makes me feel important. Still, I don't think it's more than speculation." "I'm sure I'm right," Frankie rose. "I must go now, and I'll come and see you tomorrow, shall I?" "Oh! Come on. The naughty chatter of the nurses is extremely tedious. By the way, will you be back from London soon?" "Honey, I'll be right back as soon as I hear from you. So exciting to have a romantically toxic friend." "I wondered if morphine was all that romantic," Bobby reminded Frankie. "Well, I'll come tomorrow. A kiss or not?" "It's not contagious," Bobby encouraged. "Then I will perfectly perform my duty to a patient." She kissed Bobby lightly. "See you tomorrow." The nurse was coming in with Bobby's tea when Frankie went out. "I've seen pictures of her in the papers a lot, though she doesn't quite look like that. Of course, I've seen her drive a car, but never this close. She's not haughty at all, is she?" ?” "Oh! Not at all!" said Bobby. "I never thought Frankie was arrogant." "I told the head nurse, and I said she was approachable and not conceited at all. I told the head nurse, she was just like you and me, and I said it." Bobby disputed this statement with wordless silence.Disappointed at his lack of response, the nurse left the room, leaving Bobby to ponder, finish his tea, imagine the possibilities of Frankie's astonishing speculation, and finally reluctantly decide to dismiss it.So he wanted to have fun. His eyes were drawn to the vase of lilies.Frankie had been kind enough to bring him the flowers, which were beautiful, of course, but he wished she would bring him some detective stories.His gaze turned to the table beside him.There was a Quetta novel on the table, a copy of John Halifax The Gentleman and last week's March Bolt Weekly, and he picked up John Halifax The Gentleman . Five minutes later, he put the book down, thinking about "The Third Bloodstain", "The Murder of the Grand Duke", "The Strange Adventure of the Florentine Cutler", "The Gentleman of John Halifax" and so on. Find some entertainment, but it's all lacking in excitement. Sighing, he picked up last week's March Bolt Weekly. Not long after, he pressed the alarm bell under his pillow vigorously, and a nurse rushed into the room. "What's the matter, Mr. Jones? Are you unwell?" "Call up to the castle," cried Bobby, "and tell Miss Frances that she must come here at once." "Oh, Mr. Jones, you can't send a message like that." "I can't?" said Bobby. "If I'm allowed to get out of this damn bed, you'll see right away if I can or can't. That's it, you'll do it for me." "But she just won't come back." "You don't know her Bentley." "She hasn't finished her tea yet." "Just understand, dear girl," said Bobby, "stop standing here arguing with me, and call up as I said, and tell her she must come right away, because I have something very important to say to her." The nurse gave in, but went reluctantly.She edited Bobby's message a little. If Miss Frances was not inconvenient, Mr. Jones wondered if she would mind coming over, for he had something to say to her.Of course, Miss Frances should not be embarrassed in any way. Miss Frances simply replied that she would be in a moment. "She must be in love with him!" said the nurse to his colleagues. "That's all." Frankie arrived with great excitement. "What is the meaning of this desperate calling?" she pursued. Bobby was sitting on the bed, flushed, waving the Marchbolt Weekly in his hand. "Look here, Frankie." Frankie snorted when he saw it. "That's the photo you were talking about when you said it was retouched but it looked like Mrs Cayman." Bobby pointed to a blurry remake of the photo, under which it was written: "Pictures recovered and identified from the deceased. Mrs. Amelia Cayman, sister of the deceased." "As I said, the photos are fine. I don't see anything in them to rave about." "I can't see it either." "But you said..." "I know what I'm saying. But mind you, Frankie," said Bobby's tone, which became particularly memorable, "this isn't the picture I put back in the dead man's pocket..." They looked at each other for four days. "In case that's the case," said Bobby slowly. "Anyway, there must be two photos..." "There is one that doesn't necessarily look like..." "Otherwise..." They stopped talking. "That man... what's his name?" Frankie asked. "Bassington-French!" said Bobby. "I'm sure it's him!"

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