Hickory Dickory Dock by Agatha Christie Page A

might call rightful and normal access to the cupboard. Then there's an old woman who scrubs the floors. She's there between nine and ten in the morning and she could have grabbed a bottle out of the cupboard if the girls were busy at the outpatients' hatches, or attending to the ward baskets, but she's been working for the Hospital for years and it seems very unlikely. The lab attendant comes through with stock bottles and he, too, could help himself to a bottle if he watched his opportunity - but none of these suggestions seem at all probable.”
    “What outsiders come into the Dispensary?”
    “Quite a lot, one way or another. They'd pass through the Dispensary to go to the Chief Pharmacist's office, for instance - or travellers from the big wholesale drug houses would go through it to the manufacturing departments, Then, of course, friends come in occasionally to see one of the dispensers - not a usual thing, but it happens.”
    “That is better. Who came in recently to see Celia Austin?”
    Sharpe consulted his notebook.
    “A girl called Patricia Lane came in on Tuesday of last week. She wanted Celia to come to meet her at the pictures after the Dispensary closed.”
    “Patricia Lane,” said Poirot thoughtfully.
    “She was only there about five minutes and she did not go near the poison cupboard but remained near the Outpatients windows talking to Celia and another girl. They also remember a coloured girl coming two weeks ago - a very superior girl, they said. She was interested in the work and asked questions about it and made notes. Spoke perfect English.”
    “That would be Elizabeth Johnston. She was interested, was she?”
    “It was a Welfare Clinic afternoon. She was interested in the organisation of such things and also in what was prescribed for such ailments as infant diarrhoea and skin infections.”
    Poirot nodded.
    “Anyone else?”
    “Not that can be remembered.”
    “Do doctors come to the Dispensary?”
    Sharpe grinned.
    “All the time. Officially and unofficially. Sometimes to ask about a particular formula, or to see what is kept in stock.”
    “To see what is kept in stock?”
    “Yes, I thought of that. Sometimes they ask advice for a substitute for some preparation that seems to irritate a patient's skin or interfere with digestion unduly. Sometimes a physician just strolls in for a chat at a slack moment. A good many of the young chaps come in for veganin or aspirin when they've got a hangover - and occasionally, I'd say, for a flirtatious word or two with one of the girls if the opportunity arises. Human nature is always human nature. You see how it is. Pretty hopeless.”
    Poirot said, “And if I recollect rightly, one or more of the students at Hickory Road is attached to St. Catherine's - a big red-haired boy - Bates - Bateman -”
    “Leonard Bateson. That's right. And Colin McNabb is doing a post graduate course there. Then there's a girl, Jean Tomlinson, who works in the physiotherapy department.”
    “And all of these have probably been quite often in the Dispensary?”
    “Yes, and what's more, nobody remembers when because they're used to seeing them and know them by sight. Jean Tomlinson was by way of being a friend of the senior Dispenser -”
    “It is not easy,” said Poirot.
    “I'll say it's not! You see, anyone who was on the staff could take a look in the poison cupboard, say, 'Why on earth do you have so much Liquor Arsenicalis' or something like that. 'Didn't know anybody used it nowadays.' And nobody would think twice about it or remember it.”
    Sharpe paused and then said:
    “What we are postulating is that someone gave Celia Austin morphia and afterwards put the morphia bottle and the torn out fragment of letter in her room to make it look like suicide. But why, Mr. Poirot, why?”
    Poirot shook his head. Sharpe went on:
    “You hinted this morning that someone might have suggested the kleptomania idea to Celia Austin.”
    Poirot moved uneasily.
    “That was