The doctor looked down at the chart. “Woolsorters’ disease is caused by the spore-forming bacteria Bacillus anthracis. Or, as it’s more commonly known, anthrax.” He cleared his throat and looked up. “Humans generally contract anthrax through an injury to the skin or mucous membranes. But it’s often found in agricultural or industrial workers who work with infected animals or animal products—such as wool, or buttons made from horn, for example.”
Maggie’s and Mark’s eyes met. Now they knew what the Minister of Agriculture and Fisheries was doing there in the hospital—and why he’d wanted to dispose of Estelle’s body before an autopsy could be performed. If a fatal disease was spreading, the authorities would want to quarantine those with it, and not cause panic. Keep the information from the public.
Still, something puzzled Maggie. “But Estelle Crawford, Mildred Petrie, and Sarah Sanderson were—are—ballet dancers, not wool sorters. How on earth would they have come in contact with anthrax?”
“Have they traveled to any farms recently?” Dr. Janus asked. “Within the past week or so?”
“I don’t think so,” Maggie said, “but we’ll check, of course. How does one contract the disease, specifically?”
“Infection occurs through the skin. Or by inhalation or ingestion of bacterial spores.”
“Does it mean anything that all three women have the blisters on their right hands?”
“They may have touched something with their hand that was covered in the bacteria.”
“Is there any cure?” Maggie asked. Sarah was so desperately ill. Surely …
“Rest,” answered the doctor grimly. “And a lot depends on the baseline health of the patient.”
“You’ve examined Sarah Sanderson, yes?”
“I have.”
“And what’s your prognosis?”
“We’ll do everything we can for her. But I’m afraid I must say that at this point—it’s touch and go. Does she have any family?”
“Her mother lives in Liverpool.”
“Well,” the doctor said, “it’s time to let her know. She might want to come and say her good-byes.”
Good-byes? Maggie’s heart stuttered. Oh, no. Not yet … “May I see her?” she managed.
Dr. Janus nodded. “But not for too long. She needs her rest.”
“Mildred said, ‘I did it,’ ” Mark said, pulling Maggie aside. “But then she said she ‘didn’t know’—and that she ‘touched them, too.’ ”
“She was delirious,” Maggie replied, thinking of Sarah. “I wouldn’t take her words literally.”
“It’s a confession. That she played a part in the death of Estelle Crawford. Sarah was collateral damage. And she, herself, somehow touched something she wasn’t supposed to—and was poisoned, too. Mildred Petrie killed Estelle Crawford. Somehow, she and Sarah were accidentally poisoned?”
Maggie shook her head. “It’s not a confession. How could she have committed murder if she ‘didn’t know’?”
“The doctor said that infection occurs through the skin or by inhalation or ingestion of the bacterial spores. What if she touched something that was poisoned?”
“You mean, did she prick her finger on a spindle? I believe that’s an entirely different ballet, Mr. Standish.”
Mark ground his teeth in frustration.
“In the Windsor case I was too quick to let personal prejudices cloud my judgment, and too quick to jump to conclusions,” Maggie reminded him. “You said so yourself.”
“But—”
Maggie took his arm. “Come on. Let’s see Sarah.”
In Sarah’s room, raindrops spattered against the high windows, and there was an overwhelming scent of rubbing alcohol. Sarah’s eyes were closed. But when she heard the door open, they fluttered open. “Maggie …”
Maggie went immediately to her friend’s side. “Shhhh … No need to talk, sweetheart. Just rest.”
Sarah gave a choked laugh. “I don’t think I’ll be dancing La Sylphide anytime soon …”
Maggie looked at her friend’s hand clutching the gray blanket. “Sarah, do you remember touching anything with your right hand? Raw wool for your toe shoes, perhaps? Horn buttons?” The black sores seemed to be worse on her right ring finger.
Sarah didn’t reply.
“Did Mildred have any grudge against Estelle?” Mark asked. “Did she do anything to endanger her? Would she have any reason to … kill her?”
Sarah gave a low cough, then closed her eyes. “… No …”