On September 17, Dr. James Sheppard returns home in a frenzied state after making an early-morning emergency police call to Mrs. Ferrars' residence at King's Paddock. He was called to provide the time and manner of Mrs. Ferrars' death. He dates the death to the early hours of September 16–17 and attributes the cause to a veronal overdose, which is a barbiturate sleep aid. The news of the death was already relayed to Dr. Sheppard's living sister, Caroline, by the milkman, who obtained it via Annie, Mrs. Ferrars's parlormaid and cook. Caroline hypothesizes that Mrs. Ferrars killed herself because she regretted poisoning her husband Ashley Ferrars the year before.While keeping his sister's suspicions to himself, Dr. Sheppard makes an effort to dissuade her conjectures.
Mrs. Ferrars passed away on Thursday, September 10th, in the evening. On Friday, the 17th, at eight in the morning, I was called in. Nothing could be done about it. She had passed away some hours ago.
I arrived at my house again little after nine o'clock in the evening. I used my latchkey to open the front door and took a few deliberate steps back in the hall to hang up my hat and the lightweight overcoat I had decided was a sensible precaution against the early October morning chill. To be honest, I was very anxious and disturbed. I won't claim to have known at that very time what would happen over the next few weeks. I firmly denied doing so. However, I had a gut feeling that exciting days lay ahead.
My sister Caroline's quick, dry cough and the rattle of teacups came from the dining room on my left.
"That's you, James?" she enquired.
Not really a needless inquiry, given who else might it be? In actuality, my sister Caroline was the reason for my brief delay of a few minutes. Mr. Kipling informs us that the mongoose family's motto is "Go and find out." I should really propose a mongoose rampant if Caroline ever decides to adopt a crest. The motto's initial part could be skipped. Caroline can learn as much as she wants by contentedly sitting at home. It's there, and I have no idea how she does it.My suspicion is that her Intelligence Corps consists of tradesmen and maids. She goes out to disseminate information rather than to obtain it. She is fantastic at that as well.
I was actually experiencing these feelings of indecision because of this last characteristic of hers. In about an hour and a half, everyone in the community will know all I told Caroline about Mrs. Ferrars's passing. Being a professional man, discretion is what I naturally strive for. I've therefore developed the bad habit of always keeping everything from my sister. She typically finds out the same way, but at least I can feel good about myself because I am not at all at fault.
Mrs. Ferrars' husband passed away a little more than a year ago, and Caroline has persistently claimed—without even the slightest shred of evidence—that his wife poisoned him.
She ignores my constant retort that Mr. Ferrars's death was caused by acute gastritis, which was exacerbated by his chronic overindulgence in alcoholic beverages. I agree that the symptoms of gastritis and arsenical poisoning are not the same, but Caroline makes a whole different claim.
