The Problem of the Green Capsule by John Dickson Carr Read Free Book Online

the nape of the neck; the broad forehead, arched brows, and meditative grey eyes; the mouth that seemed to be always in repose. He saw now that she was not beautiful, but he hardly noticed this.
    “I’m sorry,” she said, rousing herself again from the puzzled look she was directing at him. “I’m afraid I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”
    “Will you sit down, please, Miss Wills? If you feel up to it, we should like to hear what you can tell us about your uncle’s death.”
    She gave a quick glance at the folding doors to the dark room beyond. After looking at the floor for a moment, and clenching her hands once or twice, she threw back her head with at least surface calm. But such humour and intelligence as he ascribed to her may not be proof against four months’ whispering attack of tongues.
    “That bulb can’t have burned out, can it?” she said, and rubbed her forehead vigorously with the back of her hand. “Have you come down to arrest me?”
    “No.”
    “Then—well, what do you want to ask me?”
    “Just tell me about it in your own way, Miss Wills. Dr. Chesney, if you would like to go to your patient——?”
    Elliot’s sober-minded, quiet Scots courtesy was having its effect. She looked at him speculatively, and her breathing became less rapid. Taking the chair he set out for her, she sat down and crossed her knees. She was wearing a plain black dinner-dress, without rings or ornaments: not even an engagement-ring.
    “Inspector, must we stay here? In this room, I mean?”
    “Yes.”
    “My uncle had a theory,” she said. “Whenever he had a theory, he had to test it. And this is the result.” She told him about the theory.
    “I understand, Miss Wills, that this all began with an argument at the dinner-table?”
    “Yes.”
    “Who started the argument? Introduced the subject, I mean?”
    “Uncle Marcus,” answered the girl, as though surprised.
    “And you disagreed with him?”
    “Yes.”
    “Why, Miss Wills? On what grounds?”
    “Oh, does it matter?” cried Marjorie, opening her eyes a little and making a gesture of impatience. But she saw the tenacity of Elliot’s jaw; and, puzzled and excited, she went on. “Why? Just for something to do, I suppose. It’s been rather beastly since we’ve been back home, even with George here. Especially with George here, George is my fiancé :I—I met him on a trip we took abroad. And then Uncle Marcus was so sure of himself. Besides, I’ve always really believed what I told him.”
    “‘About what?”
    “All men are unobservant,” said Marjorie quietly. “That’s why you make such bad witnesses. You don’t pay attention. You’re too wrapped up all the time in your own concerns, looking inwards, always concentrated on your business or your troubles. So you don’t observe. Shall I prove it? You’re always joking about a woman knowing what another woman is wearing, down to the last detail of a belt or a bracelet. Well, do you think a woman doesn’t notice what a man is wearing as well? And can’t describe it? It isn’t a question of watching other women; it’s a question of plain observation. But do you ever notice what other people are wearing? Another man, for instance? No. Provided his suit or his tie isn’t offensive, you pay no more attention. Do you ever notice details? His shoes; or his hands?”
    She paused, glancing over her shoulder at the double-doors.
    “I’m telling you this because I swore to Uncle Marcus that no intelligent woman would ever be much mistaken about what she saw. I told him that if he gave his demonstration I shouldn’t be. And I’m not mistaken.”
    Marjorie bent forward with fierce earnestness.
    “You see,” she went on, “someone came in——”
    “Just a moment, Miss Wills. Who else disagreed with this proposition of your uncle’s?”
    “Uncle Joe did, just on general principles. And Professor Ingram disagreed very strongly. You see, he’s a professor of psychology. He said that