Fault in the Structure

‘What about?’

‘Le psychologie. Disturbances of ze mind. Les hallucinations, madame.’

‘Really?’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘Well, tell him that I am no longer in private practice and that, in any case, I see no one without either a personal invitation or by appointment.’

‘Bien, madame.’ Celestine withdrew, but before Dame Beatrice could settle down to work again on a paper she was writing for a learned journal, Celestine was back, this time in a state of high indignation.

‘Imagine, madame! This assassin of whom I speak to you! He refuses to leave. He has tried to bribe me, madame! He offers me a pourboire – and a very small one, at that! – to show him in to you. It is insupportable!’

‘I hope you and Henri, between you, will make it clear to him that I can be of no assistance to him.’

‘He is indecrottable, that one, madame. Henri have to hold him en mer—’

‘At bay, not “at sea”.’

‘Bay is sea, no? Eh, bien, Henri have to hold him at bay with a big knife, so he does not force his way into the presence of madame.’

‘He appears to be a man of obstinate resolution. You had better show him in here if he is being threatened with a knife.’

‘Madame will receive this parvenu?’

The man who entered was tall and lean. He was clean-shaven, dark-haired and looked sardonic and ill- humoured. He bowed and took the seat Dame Beatrice offered him.

‘Perhaps I should have made an appointment?’ he said.

‘It would have been of no use,’ Dame Beatrice replied. ‘I am no longer in private practice.’

‘Oh, I had hoped – your son told me—’

‘My son?’

‘Sir Ferdinand Lestrange. When he knew I wanted to buy a New Forest property, he told me that you and I were to be near neighbours. I shall be moving to a property just outside the town of Chardle.’

‘That is not very near the village here.’

‘A mere matter of twenty miles. Nothing in a fast car.’

‘My son is not usually anxious to extend my circle of acquaintances. He believes that I am capable of doing that for myself.’

‘Oh, but people living in the same neighbourhood should be prepared to socialise, surely?’

‘I am afraid that my interests lie elsewhere.’

‘Oh, now, now!’ cried the visitor, wagging a playful finger. ‘We are all members one of another, we’re told. Doesn’t John Donne add that…’

‘My dear young man,’ said Dame Beatrice, ‘you told my servant that you had come to consult me professionally.’

‘Oh, yes, of course, that is so.’

‘I sent a message to say that I am no longer in private practice. Even if I were, you would have had to consult me in London, not here. This is my private residence and I do not welcome—’ she eyed him straightly ‘— gatecrashers.’

‘Well, really!’

‘Also I happen to be very busy at this particular time, as, no doubt, you can see for yourself.’

‘Oh, well!’ He rose and stood looking down on her. His hat was in one hand, a pair of driving-gloves in the other. The knuckles of both hands, she noticed, were white.

‘I can see that you are under considerable strain,’ she said. ‘You would do well, perhaps, to consult a doctor.’

‘But not you? I could make it any time which suited you.’

‘I am sorry. And now, if you don’t mind —’ She indicated the books and papers on her desk.

‘Oh, but, hang it all! Well, look here, if you won’t have me as your patient, whom do you suggest I should go to?’

‘Professor Jericho is a very good man,’ said Dame Beatrice coolly. She rang the bell.

‘Go to—? Here, I say! I did expect to get at least a courteous hearing! I came here to—’

‘Celestine,’ said Dame Beatrice, ‘show Mr Lawrence out.’

The Frenchwoman showed no surprise at the change in the visitor’s name, but having closed the front door behind him she returned unbidden to her mistress.

‘He asks me, that one, whether you are alone in the house except for your servants, madame.’

‘Oh? What did you tell him?’