Mr. Ashton’s office was the same design as Dr. Maxwell’s, rectangular with a window overlooking the Quad. His desk, the same warm oak as lined the walls, was gleaming and bare but for his spotless blotter and an articulating lamp without a speck of dust on its bronze shade. The books along the shelf next to it were perfectly aligned. A small couch with faded gray upholstery had been backed up to the unadorned white wall opposite the desk.
“You have a rather spartan sense of style, Mr. Ashton,” she remarked.
“I find it makes it easier to find what I need.” He straightened his blotter and the stack of books again before settling into his chair and looking at her expectantly. He was tidy in a gray suit and sober blue tie. Only his dark hair continued to defy his perfect order, with a wave that pomade couldn’t seem to control.
“I came to see how I might assist you with the expedition preparations,” Saffron said.
“Unfortunately, I haven’t had the opportunity to take a look at the materials from Dr. Maxwell yet. I was kept busy with the police yesterday.”
“The police?” Saffron repeated in surprise.
“I assume that means you haven’t spoken to them yet. They’re looking into what happened to Mrs. Henry,” Mr. Ashton said.
“But why would the police be interested in an allergic reaction?” Saffron asked.
“It wasn’t an allergic reaction.” Mr. Ashton hesitated, then added, “Mrs. Henry is in a comatose state. They said it was poison.”
Saffron gasped. “Poison?”
“They think it was something in her drink. You know, the champagne. It was being passed all around, and someone could have easily put something in.”
Shocked, Saffron sunk into the chair opposite Mr. Ashton. Mrs. Henry seemed like a normal person. Perhaps a bit unpleasant, considering the conversation she’d overheard in the hallway, but not so bad as to warrant being poisoned. “But why would someone poison Mrs. Henry?”
Mr. Ashton spoke slowly, as if weighing each word. “The police asked me an hour’s worth of questions, mostly about Dr. Henry.”
“Do they think he poisoned his wife?”
At this, he looked back to his desk. “I couldn’t say.”
He didn’t seem inclined to say more about it, and assured her that he would let her know what he needed for the preparations.
Saffron walked slowly down the hall, which was beginning to buzz with scholars, hoping Dr. Maxwell had arrived and had more information about Mrs. Henry. She found the white-haired professor scribbling on a piece of paper at his desk. Putting her bag on her chair on the far side of the cluttered room, she smiled at him when he looked up.
“Good morning, Everleigh,” he murmured, his voice gruffer than usual.
“Good morning, Professor,” she replied and began removing her gloves and hat. “Have you had a chance to look over the notes I left?”
“No, just wrote a few things before I forget them. I don’t suppose”—he raised his bushy eyebrows at her—“you’ve seen the police poking about?”
“No, I haven’t,” Saffron replied. “Though I suppose they would come here to question the guests from the party.”
“I gather you’ve heard about Dr. Henry’s wife.”
“I heard it wasn’t an allergy after all. Alexander Ashton told me.”
Dr. Maxwell frowned. “Everleigh—”
A sharp knock at the door interrupted him. Maxwell stood up with a grunt, but Saffron was there quicker.
There were two men at the door, a middle-aged man of perhaps forty and a younger man in a navy policeman’s uniform, who couldn’t be much older than Saffron. The older man was as bland and somber as his dark Hamburg hat. The uniformed officer, with wide blue eyes and blond hair peeking out from under his domed custodian helmet, looked as though he were play-acting at being a police officer.
“Detective Inspector Green, Criminal Investigation Department,” the older man said. “This is Sergeant Simpson.” He gestured back to the young man. “Is Dr. Alan Maxwell available?”
From behind his desk, Maxwell’s face went slightly pale beneath his snowy beard. Saffron stepped aside for the policemen to enter. Maxwell’s hand trembled as he offered it to Inspector Green. “Inspector, this is Miss Saffron Everleigh, my assistant.”
The inspector nodded to Saffron. Sergeant Simpson remained by the door and took out a notebook and pencil.
Inspector Green turned to the professor. “Dr. Maxwell, we are here to follow up on our questions from yesterday regarding the poisoning of Mrs. Cynthia Henry.”