One of the other Afghanis said something hesitantly and Iskander nodded gravely. ‘My friend is asking, Dr Holbrook, what are the possibilities that Zeman was poisoned? Poisoned deliberately?’
Again in two languages Grace began, ‘It is certainly possible. Even likely. For this reason we must gather together all who were at the evening meal and find whether anyone else has been affected. We must establish the course of the meal, exactly what he ate and drank. James, could we meet at once in the library? No – back in the durbar hall – it may help people to remember more clearly. It would be a good idea to have last night’s kitchen staff standing by in case we need to speak to them. And, Iskander, I would like your officers to be present at our deliberations.’
James gave instructions to his men, who hurried off. ‘I’ve said – in the durbar hall in ten minutes. Hope that’s all right?’
The hall when they assembled was clean and bright with no sign of the previous night’s party. Joe and James dragged a rug into the middle of the floor and, as the other six people arrived, directed them to sit where they had been the night before.
News of the death of Zeman had spread. Fred Moore-Simpson slipped into his place next to Iskander, briefly placing a comforting arm around his shoulder and murmuring, ‘Awfully sorry to hear what’s happened. Dreadful, simply dreadful! He was a fine man. Let me know if there’s anything – anything – I can do.’
Rathmore came in looking, Joe thought, shaken and apprehensive. Joe was automatically noting everyone’s appearance, not quite certain himself what he was looking for but taking in details any of which might at some later point need to be dredged from his unconscious. And there was something different about Rathmore besides his loss of cockiness. He was walking unsteadily. Yes, definitely favouring his right foot. Hardly able to meet Iskander’s eye, ‘James, Iskander,’ he said with a nod to each. ‘Shocking bad news. Food poisoning is what I hear? Hasn’t affected me, I’m pleased to say. Is that what you wanted to know?’ He sat down when invited to do so on the right of Iskander as before.
Pale and exhausted, Edwin Burroughs was next to arrive. He merely nodded and took his seat. Lily, arm in arm with Betty, was the last to come down. With a cry of concern, James hurried to lower Betty on to her cushion. Betty looked miserable, white and pinched, and she twisted a handkerchief in her hands in agitation. The three Afghani officers ranged themselves around the room, an ominous presence.
‘Well,’ said Burroughs, finding his voice, ‘is someone going to tell us why we’re here? Isn’t this where the chap from Scotland Yard tells us we’re all under arrest?’
‘Edwin,’ said Grace patiently, ‘no one is accusing anyone of anything. We think Zeman died of natural causes, probably food poisoning. We have gathered here to try to establish what exactly it was that killed him.’
‘And we may as well start with you, Burroughs,’ said Joe. ‘You were ill in the night, I believe?’
‘This is embarrassing,’ snapped Burroughs, ‘and I can’t imagine how you know that or why you think it’s any business of yours to question me in public about my health but, if you must know, I have an ulcer – an ulcer which responds badly to certain types of food. It was particularly lively last night and I slept badly. I had no unusual symptoms.’
‘Can you tell us which of the dishes you ate? For elimination purposes.’
Burroughs looked a little put out and then replied. ‘Every dish except the curries. And I drank three glasses of champagne and one of the pink stuff – what was it? Pomegranate? If you say so.’
‘And the bismuth tablet,’ said Lily sharply. ‘Don’t forget that! Zeman had one too. You gave it to him.’
‘What was that? Madam! What can you possibly be implying?’
‘Joe, please.’ Betty’s voice, subdued but firm, cut into a potential clash. ‘I think we can cut this short. I’ve worked it out. It was the pheasant. The question remains, of course, as to how the pheasant was polluted – poisoned – infected – call it what you will. But the pheasant, I think, is the villain. The very thought of it makes me feel sick again!’
She pressed her handkerchief to her lips as she finished and anxiously Lily scrambled up to fetch a glass of water. Betty took some sips and resumed. ‘Zeman and I were the only ones to try Lily’s pheasant. Do you remember it appeared late in the meal when most people had eaten quite enough? I think I remember Zeman ate quite a lot.’ She looked to Iskander for confirmation. He nodded. ‘And I ate only a little. I was ill in the night as Grace may have told you.’ She raised huge eyes to Joe and said, ‘Do you think the meat was infected or did someone deliberately set out to poison Zeman? Or me? Us? All of us or someone in particular?’