Note: To ask Sir James Lubbock if he can confirm this.
If Lathom was able to recognise and procure Amanita muscaria, could he not have boiled it on some previous occasion and added the poison to the stew in liquid form, so as to run less risk of my father’s recognising the intrusion of the wrong fungus?
(Answer: Very probably.)
(As regards the question of Means, therefore, it seemed clear that Lathom might readily have had access to the poison, and that there was no mechanical difficulty at all to prevent his having introduced it into the dish of mushrooms. When, however, we came to consider the subject of Opportunity, we were faced with a more important set of difficulties.)
B. Opportunity
1. – At what time was the poison actually administered to Harrison?
A terminus a quo is provided by the evidence of Harry Trefusis, who saw Harrison alive and apparently well at 10.30 a.m. on Thursday. By this time, Lathom was presumably in the train and on his way to London.
The terminus ad quem can be stated with rather less accuracy. From the fact, however, that the shin of beef delivered that morning was afterwards discovered still wrapped in its original paper, it appears quite certain that Harrison was rendered incapable of seeing to any household affairs before the evening. From my knowledge of my father, I should be prepared to swear that he would certainly never have left meat in this condition overnight. He would have put it on to boil for stock, or, at the very least, would have transferred it to a plate – particularly in the case of shin of beef, which, being glutinous, has a habit of sticking to the wrapping-paper. When I stayed at ‘The Shack’ with my father, he was accustomed to have his evening meal about seven o’clock. After this, he would wash the crockery and tidy the place up, and put on any stock that might be required for the next day. He would then sit and read for an hour or two, retiring to bed about ten, possibly taking a cup of cocoa or some food before retiring.
It thus seems likely that the poison was taken between the hours of 10.30 a m. and 8 p.m., and most probably at or about 7 p.m.
Question: What evidence have we that Lathom actually went to London by the 8.13 at all? Could he have returned to ‘The Shack’ surreptitiously during the interval? By hiring a motor-bicycle or car, he might easily have made his way back from Bovey Tracey or (if this might appear too obvious) from Brimley Halt, Heathfield, Teigngrace or Newton Abbot. He could then have lurked about in the neighbourhood of ‘The Shack’ till he saw Harrison go out, and taken the opportunity to add the poison to the dish or stock-pot.
Note: To inquire as to Lathom’s movements in town. If anybody met him on Thursday morning, this hypothesis falls to the ground. If not, to find out whether he really entered the train at Bovey Tracey, and if anybody of his description hired any sort of motor vehicle at any point along the line. This would not, in fact, cover every contingency, for an active man might easily have walked the ten or twelve miles between Newton Abbot and ‘The Shack’. A motor vehicle is perhaps more likely, as providing a quicker getaway after the crime.
2. – Is it possible that the poisonous fungus, or liquid prepared from fungus, was added, not to the fungus gathered by my father on the Thursday, but to some other collection of fungus gathered the previous day?
This appears unlikely, for three reasons. First: my father always made a great point of eating his fungi freshly gathered. It would have been quite unlike him to gather them overnight and eat them next day. He considered early morning the best time for picking fungus. He had stated his intention of gathering Warty Caps on the Thursday morning, and was, in fact, seen apparently doing so by the witness Coffin. Secondly: If the fungi eaten on Thursday night were gathered the previous day, what became of those gathered on Thursday morning? They were not found in ‘The Shack’. Thirdly: For Lathom’s purpose it was necessary that Harrison should have had the intention of gathering Warty Caps, and no other kind of fungus, since this is the only variety which could reasonably be confused with Amanita muscaria. It would appear, therefore, more than a coincidence that my father should have been seen gathering fungus in a spot where Warty Caps were usually to be found. Of course, Lathom’s evidence on this point is suspect, and verification is necessary.
Question: Are Warty Caps (Amanita rubescens) actually plentiful in the spot where Harrison was seen by Coffin?
Can any of the contents of the dish of fungi actually be identified as Amanita rubescens?
When did Harrison mention to Lathom his intention of gathering Amanita rubescens? This question is important, because, if the poisonous fungi were introduced among the harmless ones in their natural state, it is absolutely necessary that the two varieties should bear at least a superficial resemblance to one another. Even in a half-cooked state, there could be no confusion between Amanita muscaria and, say, Chantarelles or Bolitus edulis or Amanitopris fulva. Unfortunately, no one can throw any light on this except Lathom himself, and it is not likely that he will tell the truth.
Note: To verify the habitat of Amanita rubescens, and, if possible, its presence in the actual dish of fungi analysed.
C. Further Questions and Objections (Miscellaneous)
If Lathom was guilty of administering poison to Harrison why did he return to ‘The Shack’ on Saturday? Would it not have been wiser to remain in town till the death was discovered?
This is an objection which to me appears to carry some weight. I can, however, see certain considerations which might account for a proceeding so apparently reckless from a practical point of view.
(a) Lathom may have wished to be on the spot to conceal any accidental traces of the crime. As we do not yet know his exact procedure, it is not certain what these could have been – a bottle, perhaps, containing extract of Amanita muscaria, a pan in which he had prepared it; a book or papers containing notes; traces of his previous arrival by motorbicycle or otherwise; possibly some letter or message left by Harrison, containing his own suspicions as to the manner of his death.
Note: Munting’s opinion is that Lathom originally intended to remain alone in ‘The Shack’ while he (Munting) went to fetch help, but when it came to the point found himself unable to face it. This is consistent with the above explanation, if we suppose that Lathom was overcome by fear or remorse at the sight of the body, and was thus prevented from carrying out his design. From Munting’s own statement it will be seen that Lathom was in a nervous state from the moment of his meeting Munting in town, down to the time when the body was discovered.
(b) Supposing the plot had failed to work, Harrison would have been expecting Lathom’s return. Let us say he had discovered an Amanita muscaria among his fungi – he would wonder how it had got there, and if Lathom never turned up might conceive such suspicion of him as would put him on his guard against any further attempts. On the other hand, he might have mentioned to people in the neighbourhood that Lathom was due to come back, in which case, the plot succeeding, Lathom’s absence might have a suspicious look.
Further explanations suggested by the Muntings:
(c) Lathom (supposing him guilty) would probably have no idea when the death might be expected to take place. As Thursday, Friday and Saturday passed without news, he might be overcome by nervous restlessness and an overwhelming anxiety to see for himself what was going on. (I suppose that from artists and persons of unbalanced temperament, such behaviour may be expected, half-witted as it may appear.)
(d) The alleged hankering of a murderer to revisit the scene of the crime. (This I hold to be pure superstition and quite baseless in fact.)
(e) Remorse. Perhaps Lathom regretted what he had done, and was making a belated effort to save Harrison’s life by fetching medical assistance before it was too late. (In this suggestion, put forward by Mrs Munting, the wish is probably father to the thought.)
Why did Lathom take Munting down to ‘The Shack’ with him? This again seems to me to have been the act of a madman. Unless, indeed, he was cunning enough to foresee that this was exactly the appe
arance it would present, and was therefore the best defence he could put up against suspicion.
Further, of course Munting provided Lathom with a complete alibi for the whole of Saturday and an unprejudiced witness as to the discovery of the body. Suppose, for example, that Harrison, instead of having been dead six or seven hours, had been only just dead or on the point of expiring when they got there, Munting could have given evidence that they had found him in that condition on their arrival.
On the other hand, Lathom was running a very serious risk, not only of defeating his own ends, but of having the whole vile plot exposed. If they had found Harrison still alive, they would have had no choice but to summon a doctor immediately; the victim might have recovered, or at least recovered sufficiently to denounce Lathom.
Note: Is Munting entirely cleared from complicity in the murder? His behaviour has been suspicious, and he has withheld information as long as possible. Not to trust him too far.
Neither Munting nor his wife seem to find as much difficulty as I do about this part of the business. They agree that a man of Lathom’s temperament, having committed a murder, would be afraid to be alone, and would take any risks to secure companionship. They instance Patrick Mahon’s incredible rashness in taking Miss Duncan to sleep at the Crumbles on the very night after he had murdered Emily Kaye, and while her dead body was actually lying in the next room. These people are both novelists and are supposed to have studied human nature. They say it is full of inconsistencies and I daresay they are right. I admit that, to me, the mentality of men like Lathom is perfectly incomprehensible, and I am ready to believe anything.
It was late when I left the Muntings, taking away with me the letters they gave me, and having obtained from Munting a promise that he would draw up a statement of the course of events during the periods not covered by the letters, and containing, in particular, an exact account of what took place at ‘The Shack’. This is the statement which forms part of this dossier, divided into chronological sections for greater ease of reference. I regret that it is so diffuse and adorned with so many unnecessary personal reflections and literary embellishments. It seems that the vanity of writers must be indulged at all costs, even where a straightforward summary of events would be far more useful. I have not, however, ventured to omit or alter anything, preferring to submit the documents exactly as they stand.
My next step was to write to Sir James Lubbock, raising the various points noted in the schedule for his consideration. In the course of a few days I received the following courteous reply.
Home Office
12 January, 1930
Paul Harrison, Esq.
Dear Sir,
I have your letter of inquiry with regard to the circumstances attending your late father’s unfortunate death. I quite understand that you are anxious to have the fullest information about it, and will do my best to clear up the various points you raise.
You may rest fully assured that the death was in fact due to the cause stated at the inquest, viz.: poisoning by muscarine, the poisonous principle of the fungus Amanita muscaria. In such a case I should not confine myself to searching for the particular poison suggested by the circumstances, but should search, as a matter of routine, for all the various classes of scheduled poisons, including not only the other vegetable alkalis but also the metallic poisons. The analysis was made with great care, and I can confidently state that every possibility was eliminated, except that of poisoning by muscarine. This poison, which was present in very considerable quantities, was unmistakably identified, while the symptoms and post-mortem appearances, as reported by the witnesses, were indubitably consistent with this form of poisoning.
I may add that preparations of the viscera, vomit, etc., and the unconsumed part of the dish of fungi have been preserved untouched, as is my invariable custom in such cases, so as to be available for future reference or analysis in case of any further question being raised. Humanly speaking, however, you may rely absolutely on the accuracy of my results.
With regard to the composition of the dish, I find, on referring to my notes, that this consisted of fungi exhibiting the structural features of Amanita, stewed whole in a preparation of beef broth, flavoured with garlic and pot-vegetables.
Your further question displays a slight misapprehension. The isolation of muscarine itself in a pure state from the fungus would be a chemical experiment of considerable difficulty, and has, so far as I know, been accomplished only by two men, Harnack and Nothnagel; their results have not, I believe, received confirmation as yet. Choline aurichloride and muscarine aurichloride have been obtained by Harnack from fractionation of extracts of the fungus, and, more recently, King obtained muscarine chloride from the same source. But I conceive your question to mean, simply, ‘Could a poisonous liquid be produced by simply boiling the fungus in water or broth?’ To this, my answer is, Yes; the liquid part of a stew made with Amanita muscaria would be equally poisonous with the solid part. In fact, according to Dixon Mann, the solid parts of the fungus, when thoroughly desiccated, are harmless, and are eaten with impunity in certain parts of the Continent, so that the juices when extracted by ebullition would probably contain a greater proportion of poisonous matter than the solid residue.
Trusting that these facts are what you require,
I remain,
Yours faithfully,
James Lubbock
The ground being thus cleared for my investigations, I determined to clear up the Manaton end of the thing first, Munting having meanwhile undertaken to make inquiries as to Lathom’s movements in London on the 17th and 18th of October.
‘The Shack’ had been locked up, and the key deposited with the local constable. Being the executor under my father’s will, I had no difficulty in obtaining it, and took the opportunity of asking a few questions at the public-house. All I could gather was, however, that Mr Lathom had knocked them up on the Saturday night in a ‘terrible state’ and ‘looking as though he had seen a ghost’, and had announced that Mr Harrison had been found dead. As he seemed on the point of collapse, the publican had comforted him with strong drink and had himself summoned the police from Bovey Tracey, the village constable being, as it happened, absent on some duty or other. While waiting, Mr Lathom had recovered himself and had asked to make a trunk call to town. This was, of course, the call to Margaret Harrison. The telephone is in the landlord’s private room, and the landlord had, with a proper delicacy, retired and shut the door on his guest, so that nothing had been overheard. On coming out, Lathom had seemed greatly agitated, and had explained that he had been breaking the news to the dead man’s family. This was disappointing, as it would have been interesting to know in what words Lathom had announced the event. From Margaret Harrison’s letter, however, it seems that he represented the thing as an accident. Yet she must surely have had her suspicions of a death occurring so opportunely and so pat upon her own instigations to murder. Possibly she managed to convince even herself by her hypocrisy – Munting thinks it not unlikely, and no doubt he has had experience of her type of mentality.
I next obtained the address of the labourer, Harold Coffin. His wife was at home, and informed me that I should find her husband at work carting some timber which had fallen in the recent gale. If I followed the lane leading down past ‘The Shack’ I could not miss him. Following these directions, I came upon him on the outskirts of a small wood. He was very ready to tell me all he knew, and led me at once to the spot, not very far away, where he had last seen my father.
It was, of course, too late in the season for Amanita rubescens, but the site which he pointed out seemed suitable enough for it, and he also, without being prompted, mentioned that he had often seen fungi growing there, of a reddish-brown colour with grey patches on the top. I took Edible and Poisonous Fungi from my pocket and asked him to look through it. He hesitated some time between the pictures of Amanita rubescens and Amanita muscaria, and finally said he thought it might be one of those two. The colour of Amani
ta muscaria seemed a bit overdone, he thought, but then, pictures in books wasn’t always right, was they, sir? The wood, locally known as Five-Acre Wood, was a great place for toadstools, and he had often seen my father gathering the great Hepatica fungus from the trees – the huge liver-coloured lumps commonly known as ‘Poor Man’s Beefsteak’. Coffin was quite clear that my father was actually gathering fungi, and not merely looking for them. My father had spoken to him and said something about, ‘Getting my supper, you see, Coffin. You ought to try some yourself; you’re missing a treat.’ Coffin had often thought of those cheerful words when he heard of the poor gentleman’s death, and had taken them as a warning.
Coffin said he knew Mr Lathom quite well by sight, having met him from time to time in the public-house when having a friendly glass. He had never seen him in the Five-Acre Wood but once, and that was with Mr Harrison, about a week before the latter’s death. His own work had lain in and about the Five-Acre during the first fortnight of October – he was employed by Mr Carey – all this round here was Mr Carey’s land – and he thought he should have seen Mr Lathom if he had come there alone at any time.
Having thanked and rewarded Coffin, I made my way to ‘The Shack’. Except for the removal of the bedclothes and other objects required for the inquest it was exactly as it had been left at the time of the death. The broken bedstead, with its terrible witness to my poor father’s death-agony, still stood in a corner of the bedmom. Even Lathom’s painting materials lay huddled in a corner. I suppose he had forgotten to remove them. A few roughly-daubed canvases in oil contrasted strongly with my father’s delicate water-colours, of which I found a number put away in a drawer. Dust had gathered thickly everywhere.