In the Teeth of the Evidence by Dorothy L. Sayers

had easy access to the deadly cyanide, and the time of death, coinciding almost exactly with that of his hasty and agitated flight from the house.
        Suicide seemed to be excluded; the other members of the household could prove each other’s alibis; there was no suggestion that any stranger had entered the house from outside. The jury brought in the inevitable verdict of murder against Raymond Whipley.
        Mr Egg rapidly made his way out of court. Two things were troubling him – Mrs Minchin’s evidence and that half-remembered warning that he had read in a book. He went down to the village post-office and sent a telegram to his employers. Then he turned his steps to the local inn, ordered a high tea, and ate it slowly, with his thoughts elsewhere. He had an idea that this case was going to be bad for business.
        In about an hour’s time, the reply to his telegram was handed to him. It ran: ‘June 14, 1893. Freeman and Toplady, 1931,’ and was signed by the senior partner of Plummett & Rose.
        Mr Egg’s round and cheerful face became overcast by a cloud of perplexity and distress. He shut himself into the landlord’s private room alone and put through an expensive trunk call to Town. Emerging, less perplexed but still gloomy, he got into his car and set off in search of the coroner.
        That official welcomed him cheerfully. He was a hearty and rubicund man with a shrewd eye and a brisk manner. Inspector Brown and the Chief Constable were with him when Monty was shown in.
        ‘Well, Mr Egg,’ said the coroner, ‘I’m sure you’re happy to be assured that this unfortunate case conveys no imputation against the purity of the goods supplied by your firm.’
        ‘That’s just what I’ve taken the liberty of coming to you about,’ said Monty. ‘Business is business, but, on the other hand, facts are facts, and our people are ready to face them. I’ve been on the phone to Mr Plummett, and he authorised me to put the thing before you.
        ‘If I didn’t,’ added Mr Egg, candidly, ‘somebody else might, and that would make matters worse. Don’t wait for unpleasant disclosures to burst. If the truth must be told, see that you tell it first. Monty’s maxim – from The Salesman’s Handbook . Remarkable book, full of common-sense. Talking of common-sense, a spot of that commodity wouldn’t have hurt our young friend, would it?’
        ‘Meaning Raymond Whipley?’ said the coroner. ‘That young man is a pathological case, if you ask me.’
        ‘You’re right there, sir,’ agreed the Inspector. ‘I’ve seen a sight of foolish crooks, but he licks the lot. Barmy, I’d call him. Quarrelling with his dad, doing him in and running away in that suspicious manner – why didn’t he put up an electric sign to say “I done it”? But as you say, I don’t think he’s quite all there.’
        ‘Well, that may be,’ said Monty, ‘but over and above that, there’s old Mr Whipley. You see, gentlemen, I know all my customers. It’s my job, as you may say, to have all their fancies by heart. No good offering an 1847 Oleroso to a gentleman that likes his sherry light and dry, or tantalising a customer that’s under orders to stick to hock with bargains in vintage port.
        ‘Now what I’d like you to tell me is, how did the late Mr Whipley come to be drinking crème de menthe at all? He only kept it by him for ladies; it was a flavour he couldn’t do with in any shape or form. You heard what he said about it to Mr Raymond.’
        ‘That’s a point,’ said the Chief Constable. ‘I may say it had already occurred to us. But he must have taken the poison in something.’
        ‘Well, I only say, bear that in mind – that, and the foolishness of the murder, if it was done the way the jury brought it in. But now about this lead-foil capsule. I can tell you something about that. I didn’t intrude myself at the inquest, because I hadn’t got the facts, but