The Flaxborough Crab

“Igsectly! But igsectly!”

“So might it not be fair to say that a man suffering from this, ah, most distressing condition would be less, far less, responsible for his actions than if he was not thus afflicted?”

“Ye-e-es, I might egree with thet—within certain limits, you unterstend...”

Scorpe’s spectacles swung upwards to scythe off any qualifications that might have been on their way.

“If you please. Now, doctor, one more question only. Are the symptoms of Grosserbayer’s Syndrome sufficiently obvious and well-defined for the condition to be diagnosed without undue difficulty?”

The pathologist grinned indulgently at such lawyerly innocence.

“My dear sir! A men sufferink Grosserbayerism is es obwiaus es...a dronken policeman—if the inspector will pardon the igsprission. Even the most incompetent—but yes!—incompetent general prectice fellow could not fail to see it.”

“If you please.” Mr Scorpe sat down. He looked well satisfied.

Purbright wondered if Malley had not slightly underestimated the intentions of the Winge family. Their solicitor certainly was here to put what whitewash he could on the late alderman. But not only that, surely. He was looking for a scapegoat. It was not in the tradition of the Winges to suffer the results of their own actions if someone else could be made to pay.

The deputy coroner indicated to Dr Heineman that he was now free to leave. He did so in high humour and with almost athletic dispatch.

“And now, Dr Meadow: you also have other matters to attend to, I dare say. You are under no obligation to offer evidence unless you think it will help the inquiry. Do you wish to be sworn?”

Dr Meadow, looking round dubiously, was caught in the iron regard of Widow Winge. He shrugged and accepted the testament from Sergeant Malley.

The deputy coroner began his questions. He felt rather proud of having overcome his initial nervousness and was even playing with the pleasant idea of making Meadow look a fool.

“How long had Mr Winge been a patient of yours, doctor?”

“Oh, many years. Perhaps twenty or more.”

“You are, in fact, the family physician?”

“That is so.”

“Had you, in general, considered him a fairly healthy man?”

“With minor exceptions, yes.”

“Right up to the time of his death?”

“He exhibited no symptoms of serious illness.”

“How serious, Dr Meadow, would you consider the condition defined by the last witness as the Grosserbayer Syndrome?”

“That would depend on context.”

“Very well—in the context of Mr Winge, then.”

“I am not convinced that it would be proper to divulge findings arrived at in the privacy of a consulting room.”

“You have heard of the Grosserbayer Syndrome, doctor?”

“I think I may say that I am as familiar with the condition as you are, doctor.”

“In that case, I need not ask you if you pursued the appropriate medical regimen.”

“You need not.”

“Did Mr Winge lately complain specifically of having difficulty in keeping his balance?”

“As I have indicated already, I am not prepared to divulge professional confidences.”

“As you wish, doctor. May I put this to you, then? Were you surprised to hear Dr Heineman refer to the symptom of imbalance in connection with Mr Winge’s complaint?”

“I should be surprised by nothing Dr Heineman saw fit to propound. Whether I agreed with it or not is quite another matter.”

“There is one further question which it is my duty to ask you, Dr Meadow. Was Mr Winge undergoing—to your knowledge—any form of medication at the time of his death?”

“He was.”

“Of what kind?”

“I am not prepared to say.”

The deputy coroner regarded him narrowly. “I could press this matter, you know, doctor.”

Meadow said nothing.

The deputy coroner looked at Purbright, who shook his head, and then at Mr Scorpe.

Scorpe lumbered portentously to his feet and glared through his spectacles at a corner of the ceiling as