‘Keep ’em off me!’ he wheezed and fell back exhausted.
MacGregor smiled awkwardly at the two ladies who were now rummaging in their handbags.
The fatter one was unperturbed. ‘ Nothing to worry about, young man,’ she assured MacGregor breezily. ‘It’s a common reaction with patients. We’re quite used to it, aren’t we, Bella? Being unappreciated doesn’t worry us. It’s a good sign, really. Shows the victim has got over the shock. Ready, Bella?’
The two ladies sank on their knees by Dover’s feet and yanked his trouser legs up. Dover kicked out feebly.
‘Who the hell are they?’ he demanded in a voice hoarse with panic. ‘Burke and Hare?’
The fatter one shook her head when she saw Dover’s stout black boots. ‘It’s no good, Bella,’ she told her friend, ‘ we’ll never be able to cut those off with your penknife.’
‘Maybe this young man has got a stronger one, dear?’
Obligingly MacGregor began fishing in his pockets.
Dover stopped him. ‘Sergeant!’ he roared. ‘I’m warning you! If you let these two harpies lay another finger on me, I’ll fix you good and proper, by God, I will! Tell ’em to shove off and mind their own blasted business!’
But it was the fatter one who resolved the situation. ‘We need an expert on this,’ she announced firmly as she got to her feet. ‘Good thing Hazel’s just next door. She’ll be able to fix him up.’
‘Will she be in now, dear?’ asked Bella, gratefully accepting MacGregor’s’s assistance as she too stood up.
‘Oh, yes, she has a surgery every morning. Well,’ – the fatter, one slung her handbag cheerfully on her arm – ‘brace yourself, Bella! Chair lift!’
It was no easy task but once Bella and her friend had made up their minds to aid and assist suffering humanity, aid and assist they did. There were protests and groans and squeals of pain from Dover as he was hoisted to his feet and his arms draped round the plump shoulders of the two ladies. There were grunts from the ladies as, their hands clasped under the Chief Inspector’s posterior, they took the strain.
MacGregor, feebly hovering around and making halfhearted offers of assistance, picked up Dover’s bowler hat and followed behind as the unwieldy trio lurched and staggered down the steps. Dover clutched his two supporters tightly round the neck and only stopped groaning to scream whenever danger appeared to approach his injured foot.
Perspiring profusely the two ladies manoeuvred their burden out of the front gate and carried it a short distance along the pavement. Interested spectators were still watching from their windows and doorways.
‘Right wheel, Bella!’ gasped the fatter one.
They turned into the next gateway and boggled slightly at the new flight of steps which loomed before them like another Everest.
Dover turned his head and addressed his sergeant. ‘What the blazes are they up to now? My God, you’re going to pay for this laddie!’
MacGregor, who was after all a detective, had been putting two and two together and had moreover spotted the brass plate on the door. ‘It’s all right, sir,’ he said. ‘They’re taking you to a doctor.’
Bella, groping blindly for the bottom step, missed it.
‘Oh, help!’ moaned Dover, tightening his stranglehold on the necks. He turned again to MacGregor. ‘For God’s sake, tell ’em to get a move on! My foot’s killing me!’
The ladies were flagging but they were made of stern stuff. They reached the top of the steps and almost fell in through the open doorway.
MacGregor, stepping over the threshold in their wake, glanced at the brass plate. He stopped horrified, refused to believe his eyes and read it again. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He hurried into the hallway in a vain attempt to ward off the disaster which was sure to come, but he was too late.
Dover was already being carried through two ranks of interested spectators towards a door marked surgery. There were two men, six women, three children, five cats, one boxer dog, two budgerigars and a snake in a box with holes in it.
Chapter Six
‘Are you sure it’s this foot?’ asked Miss Hazel ffiske sceptically.
‘Of course I’m sure!’ snapped Dover with a great deal of irritation. ‘Look at that bruise!’
Miss ffiske, sniffing contemptuously, dabbed at the indicated spot with a piece of damp cotton wool. ‘Dirt,’ she said, and held up the cotton wool in eloquent silence as proof.
Dover scowled sullenly at her. ‘Are you sure it’s not broken?’ he demanded.
‘Of course I’m sure. There’s no damage at all. She’d have needed a steam hammer to get through those boots.’
Miss ffiske shoved Dover’s foot into a bowl of warm water, yanked it out again, wiped it and had another look. Sighing deeply she got to her feet and went over to a cupboard. She took out a large bottle, uncorked it and poured a sour green liquid over Dover’s toes.
‘What’s that?’ asked Dover, anxious and suspicious.
‘Horse liniment,’ said Miss ffiske.
The uproar which had been caused by Dover’s dramatic entry into the surgery had long since died down. His stormy outrage at finding he had been brought to a female veterinary surgeon for treatment had been comparatively short-lived. In his state of health any expert attention was, he conceded grudgingly, better than nothing. He had had, he said unkindly, his belly full of amateurs.
After this remark there was little difficulty in persuading Bella and her friend to take their departure.
While Dover died a thousand noisy deaths MacGregor had made the introductions and explanations and Miss ffiske had got down, with more than a hint of unwillingness, to the business of ministering to the sick.
‘I don’t know what you wanted to go bothering poor Mrs Hamilton for in the first place,’ observed Miss ffiske, as they waited for the horse liniment to dry. ‘ She’s been as mad as a hatter for years and she’s gone clean round the bend since that business about her husband.’
‘But that’s what we wanted to see her about,’ said MacGregor. ‘We’re
