medicine in her hand, which she said was the composing draught, and upon looking at the direction, I saw that it was.”
“Did you perceive that it bore any peculiar smell?”
“Yes, the moment I had it in my hands. Before I had well taken out the cork, the strong smell struck me; I thought it was oil of almonds; but I soon found it was prussic acid.”
“It smelt of prussic acid?”
“Very strongly. The nurse professed not to be able to smell it, which I could scarcely believe. I wondered why Mr. Grey should be administering prussic acid, especially in a composing draught, but it was not for me to question his treatment, and I returned the bottle to the nurse.”
“You did not suspect there was sufficient in to kill her?”
Mr. Carlton stared, and then broke into a of bitter smile.
“The question is superfluous, sir. Had I suspected that, I would have taken better care than I did that she did not drink it. Minute doses of prussic acid are sometimes necessary to be given, and I could not tell what symptoms had arisen in the patient that day. When I returned to Mrs. Crane’s chamber, which I did a few minutes before leaving, I could not get the smell out of my head. The thought occurred to me, could there have been any mistake in the making up of the draught?—for of course we all know that such errors have occurred, and not unfrequently, especially when inexperienced apprentices have been entrusted to do it. An impulse prompted me to desire Mrs. Crane not to take the draught, and I did so. I———"
“Did you acquaint her with your fears that there might be poison in it?”
Again the witness smiled. “Pardon me, Mr. Coroner; you do not know much of sick treatment, or you would not ask the question. Had I said to the patient that I thought her medicine might have been poisoned by mistake, I should possibly have given her a dangerous fright; and all frights are dangerous for women in her condition. I told her I did not quite approve of the draught Mr. Stephen Grey had sent in, and that I would go and speak to him about it; but I charged her not to take it, unless she heard again from me, or from Mr. Grey, that she might do so,”
“How do you account, then, for her having taken it?”
“I cannot account for it: my words were as positive as they could well be, short of alarming her. I can only think that she forgot what I said to her.”
“Did you also warn the woman—Pepperfly?”
“No. I deemed my warning to Mrs. Crane sufficient; and I did not see Mrs. Pepperfly about, when I left the house.”
“Do you not think, Mr. Carlton, it would have been the safer plan, had you put the suspected draught into your pocket?” inquired one of the jury.
“If we could foresee what is about to happen, we should act differently in many ways, all of us,” retorted the witness, who seemed cross that his prudence should be reflected on, and who possibly felt vexed at there being any grounds for its being so. “When a calamity has happened, we say, ‘If I had known, I would have done so and so, and prevented it.’ You may be sure, sir, that had I known there was enough poison in that draught to kill Mrs. Crane, or that she would disregard my injunction, and imbibe it, I should have brought it away with me. I have regretted not doing so ever since, But where’s the use of regretting? it will not recall her to life.”
“Go on, sir,” said the coroner.
“I went to the Messrs. Greys. My intention was to see Mr. Stephen, to tell him of the smell the draught bore, and inquire if it was right. But I could not see Mr. Stephen: the assistant, Mr. Whittaker, said he was out. I considered what to do; and determined to go home, make up a proper composing draught, and bring it down. I was rather longer over this than I thought to be, for I found myself obliged to see a patient in the interim.”
“You deemed a composing draught necessary for her yourself, then?”
“Mr. Stephen Grey had deemed so, and we medical men rarely like to call in question another’s treatment. But I did think it expedient that she should take a soothing draught, for she appeared to be flushed—rather excited, I should say. I was coming down with the fresh draught in my pocket, when I met the landlady in a wild state of alarm, with the news that Mrs. Crane was dead.”
“Were you the first with her after death?”
“I was the first, except the nurse; but I had not been in the room above a minute when the Reverend Mr. Lycett followed me. We found her quite dead.”
“And, in your opinion, what was the cause?”
“The taking of prussic acid. There is no doubt about it: there was no mistaking the smell from her mouth.”
“Look at this phial, Mr. Carlton,” continued the coroner: “does it bear any resemblance to the one which contained the fatal draught?”
