Of Scotland Yardxx-xx-xx xxx Poisoner

This is Clive Rook. Of all murderers, perhaps the poisoner is the cleverest and the most difficult to catch. There is something peculiarly horrible about a man or woman who uses poison. There's a premeditated crime, and once caught they have little hope of reprieve.

The store I'm going to tell you today concerns a man respected and liked in the community in which he lived. An officer, he served in the First World War, a clerk to the local justices of the peace, and apparently in every respect, a man of integrity and a worthy citizen.

November 1921. A confidential letter has been received at the Home Office from Dr. Tom Hinks, who practices in the little market town of Hay on the border of Wales. I am only writing this letter after the most severe conflict in my own mind, Because suspicion on a fellow human is life here, a terrible thing to do, particularly when he is a well-liked friend.

And yet I must do my duty and I have no alternative. In February of this year, Mrs. Catherine Mary Armstrong, who had been an invalid for some time, died. Patient was under my care and I had given her my constant attendance.

Mrs. Armstrong had suffered from delusions and actually been certified as insane. It was about a month after her return from the asylum when she died. Throughout her illness, her husband, Major Herbert Rouse Armstrong, Solicitor and Clark to the local justices had been most attentive.

I certified that the death of Mrs. Armstrong was from natural causes. I had no reason to think otherwise. And then, some three weeks ago, I had a visit from Mr. Norman Martin, who is also a solicitor and practices in this same time.