some drug or other, and I believe Dr Meadow intended to show the article to the representative of a firm—one of the leading pharmaceutical firms—for which he had been doing research. He may—and I say
She stood up.
“That is all I can tell you, inspector. And now you must please excuse me. Elizabeth will see you out.”
She picked up a little ornamental handbell and, somewhat to the inspector’s embarrassment, shook it resolutely.
Purbright waited until the girl was about to open the front. door before he spoke to her.
“Hang on a minute, Elizabeth. Just a couple of quick questions about what happened to you yesterday.”
She looked at him nervously, then glanced back down the hall.
“I don’t know that I ought, really...she says I’m not to make any fuss about it.”
“I shan’t keep you a second.”
“But the policeman who came—he wrote everything down, I told it all to him.” She kept one slim, brown hand on the door catch.
“The car the man was hiding behind—I don’t think you described that, did you?”
“I didn’t notice it, really.”
“Not the colour, even?”
“I think it was a sort of greyish colour.” Again she looked past him, towards the room containing Mrs Meadow and her bell.
“I see. Make? Number? No good?”
She shook her head.
“Never mind. Now the man. His face was covered. In something brown, you said. Something patterned? Or not.”
“Patterned, I think.”
“And his coat. You said white. Are you sure?”
“Yes, white. It was thin and sort of smooth.”
“Have you ever seen a continental raincoat, Elizabeth? The sort they wear in Germany, Scandinavia, places like that?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“The letters. Now I want you to think very carefully. When you picked them up again, are you sure they were all there?”
“Please—I’ll have to be getting back...” She turned her face and began opening the door, but not quickly enough to hide sudden flushed cheeks.
Purbright touched her arm.
“How many were missing, Elizabeth? It’s very important that I know.”
“One. Only one. I...I daren’t let on about it. She’d have got mad at me.”
“Do you know which one? Had you seen the address on it?”
“Somewhere in London, I think. It was one of those long envelopes, and it had more stamps on than the others. You won’t let her know, will you?”
“Typewritten?”
The girl nodded miserably.
“Listen,” said Purbright. “Does this sound familiar? The British...” He formed his lips into the pronunciation of an M, and waited.
Suddenly she brightened, her unhappiness dispelled for the moment by a chance to show herself clever.
“British Medical Journal! Yes, that was it. I’m sure it was.”
“Good girl,” said Purbright. He pulled open the door himself and stepped through.
Sergeant Malley, gingerly carrying a brimful mug of tea from the canteen back to his office, raised his head to see Purbright immediately in front of him. He stopped. A little of the tea slopped on the corridor floor. The inspector was looking so cheerful that Malley had to remind himself that Purbright was not by nature a rib-poker before he felt safe to squeeze to one side and give him room to pass.
“Oh, about Meadow...” he began.
“Have they done the autopsy yet?” the inspector interrupted eagerly.
“Autopsy?”
“Certainly. Have you not seen Heineman yet?”
Malley gripped his mug more firmly. “I have, as a matter of fact. Thompson, too. And Dr James. There isn’t going to be any autopsy.”
Purbright stared. “What the hell are they playing at?”
