Livesey felt for Stafford’s pulse and then straightened up, biting his lip. He looked at Pitt. “Thank you,” he said simply. His eyes expressed both the hopelessness of it and the warning not to speak in front of Juniper.
There was a very tentative rap on the door.
“Come in.” Livesey looked at Pitt, then at the door. Surely it was too soon for a doctor, unless he had been not only in the theater, but in this tier of boxes as well.
The door opened, and Pitt recognized the smooth, dark face of Adolphus Pryce, Q.C. The man was embarrassed. His eyes went first to Juniper Stafford, hunched in her seat, clinging to Charlotte, then to the figure of Samuel Stafford on the floor. Even in the poor light reflected from the dim box lamps, and up from the brilliance of the stage across the auditorium, it was only too obvious he was in an extreme stage of illness.
“What happened?” Pryce asked very quietly. “Can—can I help? Is there—” He broke off. It was perfectly. plain there was nothing anyone could do without medical skill, and possibly not even then. “Mrs. Stafford?”
Juniper said nothing but stared at him with huge, desperate eyes.
“Yes,” Charlotte said firmly. “If you would be so kind as to fetch a glass of cold water, and perhaps make sure that Mrs. Stafford’s carriage has no difficulty in reaching the door, so that when it is time to go she does not have to wait.”
“Of course! Yes, yes, naturally I shall.” Pryce seemed to be immensely grateful for something positive to do. He looked for a moment more at Juniper, then turned on his heel and went out so rapidly that he brushed past a short man with gingerish hair in wild disarray and small, plump, very clean hands.
He came in and instinctively addressed Livesey as being the presiding authority in the matter.
“I am Dr. Lloyd. The manager said—Ah! Yes, I see.” He stared down at Stafford on the floor, now scarcely breathing at all. “Oh, dear, oh dear me. Yes.” He knelt down, peering at Stafford’s face. “What is it? Do you know? Heart attack, I shouldn’t wonder.” He felt for a pulse, his face looking increasingly worried. “Mr. Justice Stafford, you say? I’m afraid I don’t care for the look of him very much.” He touched Stafford’s pallid face with his hand. “Clammy,” he pronounced, pushing out his lip. “Can you tell me what happened, sir?” This last was addressed to Livesey.
“The onset of the illness appeared quite rapid,” Livesey replied, speaking in a clear voice, but very quietly. “I was sitting in the next box, and I saw him sink forward in his seat, so I came to see if I could be of assistance. At first I thought perhaps a stomach upset, or something of the sort, but I’m afraid now it does seem to be something a good deal more grave.”
“He does not appear to have … vomited,” the doctor remarked.
“No—no, indeed,” Livesey agreed. “And of course it may in fact be his heart as you suggested, but he did not complain of pain while he was conscious, and he seems to have been in something of a stupor since quite early on, almost drowsy, one might say.”
“He was very flushed when I first came,” Pitt offered.
“Oh? And who are you, sir?” Lloyd enquired, turning around and frowning at Pitt. “I apologize, I did not observe you before. I took this gentleman to be in charge.”
“Thomas Pitt,” Pitt replied. “Inspector, with the Bow Street station.”
“Police? Good God!”
“Here in a private capacity,” Pitt replied coolly. “I was with my wife and mother-in-law a few boxes away. I merely came to offer my assistance, or call a doctor, when I observed that Mr. Stafford was ill.”
“Very commendable,” Lloyd said with a sniff, wiping his hands on his trousers. “Don’t want to call in the police over something like this—good heavens! It’s tragic enough as it is. Perhaps someone would be good enough to look after Mrs.—er—Stafford? There is nothing whatever she can do here, poor creature!”
“Shouldn’t I—I— Oh, Samuel!” Juniper caught her breath and pressed a handkerchief up to her mouth.
“I am sure you have already done all you could,” Charlotte said gently, taking her by the arm. “Now it is up to the doctor. And if Mr. Stafford is not awake, he will not miss you. Come with me and let me find you a quiet place to sit until they can tell us something.”
“Do you think so?” Juniper turned to Charlotte with desperate appeal.
“I have no doubt at all,” Charlotte replied, glancing momentarily at Pitt, then back to Juniper. “Come with me. Perhaps Mr. Pryce will have found a glass of water and may even have located your carriage.”
“Oh, I couldn’t just go home!”
“Not yet, of course! But if that is what the doctor says, we do not want to have to wait in line, do we?”
“No—no, I suppose not. Yes, of course, you are right!” And with a little assistance Juniper rose to her feet. After thanking Livesey for his help, and with one more glance at the motionless form of her husband, she smothered a sob and allowed Charlotte to lead her outside.
Lloyd gave a deep sigh.
“Now we may get down to business, gentlemen. I gravely fear there is nothing I can do for Mr. Stafford. He is sinking very rapidly, and I have no medicine with me. Indeed I know of none which would help his condition.” He frowned and regarded the now totally inert body of his patient. He touched Stafford’s chest again, then the pulse in his neck, and lastly his wrist, shaking his head gently all the time.
Livesey stood beside Pitt, his back to the auditorium and the stage where presumably the players were unaware of the nature of the small, dark drama which was coming to a close in one of their boxes.
“In fact,” Lloyd said after another few moments, “Mr. Justice Stafford has passed away.” He rose to his feet awkwardly, brushing down his trousers to return them to their crease. He looked at Livesey. “Naturally his own physician will be informed, and his poor widow is already aware of the situation, poor woman. I am afraid I cannot pronounce the cause of death; I really have very little idea. There will have to be an autopsy. Very distressing, but it is the law.”
“Have you no idea?” Pitt frowned. “Is it not an illness you are familiar with?”
