Rebecca

'They must have finished tea,' said Colonel Julyan.

He hesitated a moment, glancing at Maxim. Then he rang the bell.

It tinkled somewhere in the back premises. There was a long pause. A very young maid opened the door to us. She looked startled at the sight of so many of us.

'Doctor Baker?' said Colonel Julyan.

'Yes, sir, will you come in?'

She opened the door on the left of the hall as we went in. It would be the drawing-room, not used much in the summer. There was a portrait of a very plain dark woman on the wall. I wondered if it was Mrs Baker. The chintz covers on the chairs and on the sofa were new and shiny. On the mantelpiece were photographs of two schoolboys with round, smiling faces.

There was a very large wireless in the corner of the room by the window. Cords trailed from it, and bits of aerial. Favell examined the portrait on the wall. Colonel July an went and stood by the empty fireplace. Maxim and I looked out of the window. I could see a deck-chair under a tree, and the back of a woman's head. The tennis court must be round the corner. I could hear the boys shouting to each other. A very old Scotch terrier was scratching himself in the middle of the path. We waited there for about five minutes. It was as though I was living the life of some other person and had come to this house to call for a subscription to a charity. It was unlike anything I had ever known. I had no feeling, no pain.

Then the door opened and a man came into the room. He was medium height, rather long in the face, with a keen chin. His hair was sandy, turning grey. He wore flannels, and a dark blue blazer.

'Forgive me for keeping you waiting,' he said, looking a little surprised, as the maid had done, to see so many of us. 'I had to run up and wash. I was playing tennis when the bell rang. Won't you sit down?' He turned to me. I sat down in the nearest chair and waited.

'You must think this a very unorthodox invasion, Doctor Baker,' said Colonel Julyan, 'and I apologise very humbly for disturbing you like this. My name is Julyan. This is Mr de Winter, Mrs de Winter, and Mr Favell. You may have seen Mr de Winter's name in the papers recently.'

'Oh,' said Doctor Baker, 'yes, yes, I suppose I have. Some inquest or other, wasn't it? My wife was reading all about it.'

'The jury brought in a verdict of suicide,' said Favell coming forward, 'which I say is absolutely out of the question. Mrs de Winter was my cousin, I knew her intimately. She would never have done such a thing, and what's more she had no motive. What we want to know is what the devil she came to see you about the very day she died?'

'You had better leave this to Julyan and myself,' said Maxim quietly. 'Doctor Baker has not the faintest idea what you are driving at.'

He turned to the doctor who was standing between them with a line between his brows, and his first polite smile frozen on his lips. 'My late wife's cousin is not satisfied with the verdict,' said Maxim, 'and we've driven up to see you today because we found your name, and the telephone number of your old consulting-rooms, in my wife's engagement diary. She seems to have made an appointment with you, and kept it, at two o'clock on the last day she ever spent in London. Could you possibly verify this for us?'

Doctor Baker was listening with great interest, but when Maxim had finished he shook his head. 'I'm most awfully sorry,' he said, 'but I think you've made a mistake. I should have remembered the name de Winter. I've never attended a Mrs de Winter in my life.'

Colonel Julyan brought out his note case and gave him the page he had torn from the engagement diary. 'Here it is, written down,' he said, 'Baker, two o'clock. And a big cross beside it, to show that the appointment was kept. And here is the telephone address. Museum 0488.'

Doctor Baker stared at the piece of paper. 'That's very odd, very odd indeed. Yes, the number is quite correct as you say.'

'Could she have come to see you and given a false name?' said Colonel Julyan.

'Why, yes, that's possible. She may have done that. It's rather unusual of course. I've never encouraged that sort of thing. It doesn't do us any good in the profession if people think they can treat us like that.'

'Would you have any record of the visit in your files?' said Colonel Julyan. 'I know it's not etiquette to ask, but the circumstances are very unusual. We do feel her appointment with you must have some bearing on the case and her subsequent — suicide.'

'Murder,' said Favell.

Doctor Baker raised his eyebrows, and looked inquiringly at Maxim. 'I'd no idea there was any question of that,' he said quietly. 'Of course I understand, and I'll do anything in my power to help you. If you will excuse me a few minutes I will go and look up my files. There should be a record of every appointment booked throughout the year, and a description of the case. Please help yourself to cigarettes. It's too early to offer you sherry, I suppose?'

Colonel Julyan and Maxim shook their heads. I thought Favell was going to say something but Doctor Baker had left the room before he had a chance.

'Seems a decent sort of fellow,' said Colonel Julyan.

'Why didn't he offer us whisky and soda?' said Favell. 'Keeps it locked up, I suppose. I didn't think much of him. I don't believe he's going to help us now.'

Maxim did not say anything. I could hear the sound of the tennis balls from the court. The Scotch terrier was barking. A woman's voice shouted to him to be quiet. The summer holidays. Baker playing with his boys. We had interrupted their routine. A high-pitched, gold clock in a glass case ticked very fast on the mantelpiece. There was a postcard of the Lake of Geneva leaning against it. The Bakers had friends in Switzerland.

Doctor Baker came back into the room with a large book and a file-case in his hands. He carried them over to the table. I've brought the collection for last year,' he said. 'I haven't been through them yet since we moved. I only gave up practice six months ago you know.' He opened the book and began turning the pages. I watched him fascinated. He would find it of course. It was only a question of moments now, of seconds. 'The seventh, eighth, tenth,' he murmured, 'nothing here. The twelfth did you say? At two o'clock? Ah!'

We none of us moved. We all watched his face.

'I saw a Mrs Danvers on the twelfth at two o'clock,' he said.

'Danny? What on earth…' began Favell, but Maxim cut him short.

'She gave a wrong name, of course,' he said. 'That was obvious from the first. Do you remember the visit now, Doctor Baker?'

But Doctor Baker was already searching his files. I saw his fingers delve into the pocket marked with D. He found it almost at once. He glanced down rapidly at his handwriting. 'Yes,' he said slowly. 'Yes, Mrs Danvers. I remember now.'

'Tall, slim, dark, very handsome?' said Colonel Julyan quietly.

'Yes,' said Doctor Baker. 'Yes.'

He read through the files, and then replaced them in the case. 'Of course,' he said, glancing at Maxim, 'this is unprofessional you know? We treat patients as though they were in the confessional. But your wife is dead, and I quite understand the circumstances are exceptional. You want to know if I can suggest any motive why your wife should have taken her life? I think I can. The woman who called herself Mrs Danvers was very seriously ill.'

He paused. He looked at every one of us in turn.

'I remember her perfectly well,' he said, and he turned back to the files again. 'She came to me for the first time a week previously to the date you mentioned. She complained of certain symptoms, and I took some X-rays of her. The second visit was to find out the result of those X-rays. The photographs are not here, but I have the details written down. I remember her standing in my consulting-room and holding out her hand for the photographs. 'I want to know the truth,' she said; 'I don't want soft words and a bedside manner. If I'm for it, you can tell me right away.' ' He paused, he glanced down at the files once again.

I waited, waited. Why couldn't he get done with it and finish and let us go? Why must we sit there, waiting, our eyes upon his face.

'Well,' he said, 'she asked for the truth, and I let her have it. Some patients are better for it. Shirking the point does them no good. This Mrs Danvers, or Mrs de Winter rather, was not the type to accept a lie. You must have known that. She stood it very well. She did not flinch. She said she had suspected it for some time. Then she paid my fee and went out. I never saw her again.'