'Have you told Athelstan?'
'No.' This time there was a smile. 'I will if you like. I thought you might prefer to do that yourself.'
Pitt stood up and reached out his hand for the written report. His coat slid to the floor in a heap but he did not notice it.
'Yes,' he said, without knowing why. 'Yes, I would. Thank you.'' He went to the door, and the doctor left to go back up to his work.
Upstairs in his polished and gleaming room, Athelstan was leaning back in his chair contemplating the ceiling when he gave Pitt permission to come in.
'Well?' he said with satisfaction. 'Good job young Gilliv-ray did turning up the prostitute, eh? Watch him-he'll go a long way. Wouldn't be surprised if I have to promote him in a year or two. Treading on your tail, Pitt!'
'Possibly,' Pitt said without pleasure. 'The police surgeon has just given me his report on Jerome.'
'Police surgeon?' Athelstan frowned. 'What for? Fellow's not ill, is he?'
'No, sir, he's in excellent health-not a blemish, apart from a little dyspepsia.' Pitt felt satisfaction welling up inside him. He looked straight at Athelstan, meeting his eyes. 'Perfect health,' he repeated.
'God dammit, man!' Athelstan sat upright sharply. 'Who cares if he has indigestion or not! The man perverted, contami-
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nated, and then murdered a decent boy, a good boy! I don't give a fig if he's doubled up in agony!'
'No, sir, he's in excellent health,' Pitt repeated. 'The doctor gave him every test he knows of, and then did it again to make sure.'
'Pitt, you're wasting my time! As long as he's kept alive and fit for trial, and then hanging, his health is of no interest to me whatsoever. Get on with your job!'
Pitt leaned forward a little, keeping the smile from his face with an effort.
'Sir,' he said carefully. 'He doesn't have syphilis-not a trace!'
Athelstan stared at him; it was a second or two before the meaning of the statement dawned on him.
'Not got syphilis?' he repeated; blinking.
'That's right. He's clean as a whistle. Hasn't got it now- never has had.'
'What are you talking about? He must have it! He gave it to Arthur Waybourne!'
'No, sir, he can't have. He doesn't have it,' Pitt repeated.
'That's absurd!' Athelstan exclaimed. 'If he didn't give it to Arthur Wayboume, then who did?'
'I don't know, sir. That's a very interesting question.'
Athelstan swore viciously, then colored with anger because Pitt had seen him lose control of himself and sink to obscenity.
'Well, get out and do something!' he shouted. 'Don't leave everything to young Gillivray! Find out who did give it to that wretched boy! Someone did-find him! Don't stand there like a fool!'
Pitt smiled sourly, his pleasure sharply diluted with the knowledge of what lay ahead.
'Yes, sir. I'll do what I can.'
'Good! Get on with it then! And close the door behind you- it's damn cold out there in the passage!'
The end of the day brought the worst experience of all. He arrived home late, to find Eugenie Jerome
