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Updated: June 3, 2025
Kennedy had been carefully scrutinizing the sheet of paper as she told how she obtained it. "It couldn't be better as far as our purposes are concerned," he congratulated. "It seems to consist of some notes he had made and wished to preserve about drugs." I leaned over and read: VERONAL. Diethylmalonyl or diethylbarbituric acid. A hypnotic used extensively.
Hence the clock doesn't really upset many people. And there are hundreds of such infernal clocks in London, and they all survive. It follows therefore that I am peculiar. Nobody has a right to be peculiar. Hence I do not complain. I suffer. I've tried stuffing my ears with cotton-wool, and stuffing the windows of my bedroom with eiderdowns. No use. I've tried veronal. No use either.
"Did you ever make up Mrs. Inglethorp's medicines?" A slight flush rose in her face, as she answered rather constrainedly: "No." "Only her powders?" The flush deepened as Cynthia replied: "Oh, yes, I did make up some sleeping powders for her once." "These?" Poirot produced the empty box which had contained powders. She nodded. "Can you tell me what they were? Sulphonal? Veronal?"
I will tell him of my own free will very soon, Henry. But not now not now." The sound of her sobbing and the sight of her distress wrung Thresk's heart. He lifted her from the ground and held her. "There's another way, Stella," he said gently. "Oh, I know," she answered. She was thinking of the little bottle with the tablets of veronal which stood by her bed, not for the first time that night.
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