The professional gusto in Bernsdorff's rich tones told Inspector Neele one thing at least.

"I gather you don't think it was natural death," he said dryly.

"Not a dog's chance of it," said Dr Bernsdorff robustly. "I'm speaking unofficially, of course," he added with belated caution.

"Of course. Of course. That's understood. He was poisoned?"

"Definitely. And what's more – this is quite unofficial you understand – just between you and me – I'd be prepared to make a bet on what the poison was."

"In-deed?"

"Taxine, my boy. Taxine."

"Taxine? Never heard of it."

"I know. Most unusual. Really delightfully unusual! I don't say I'd have spotted it myself if I hadn't had a case only three or four weeks ago. Couple of kids playing dolls' teaparties – pulled berries off a yew tree and used them for tea."

"Is that what it is? Yew berries?"

"Berries or leaves. Highly poisonous. Taxine, of course, is the alkaloid. Don't think I've heard of a case where it was used deliberately. Really most interesting and unusual… You've no idea, Neele, how tired one gets of the inevitable weed-killer. Taxine is a real treat. Of course, I may be wrong – don't quote me, for Heaven's sake – but I don't think so. Interesting for you, too, I should think. Varies the routine!"

"A good time is to be had by all, is that the idea? With the exception of the victim."

"Yes, yes, poor fellow." Dr Bernsdorff's tone was perfunctory. "Very bad luck on him."

"Did he say anything before he died?"

"Well, one of your fellows was sitting by him with a notebook. He'll have the exact details. He muttered something once about tea – that he'd been given something in his tea at the office – but that's nonsense, of course."

"Why is it nonsense?" Inspector Neele, who had been reviewing speculatively the picture of the glamorous Miss Grosvenor adding yew berries to a brew of tea, and finding it incongruous, spoke sharply.