‘I don’t believe it!’ wailed the Chief Constable.
‘They did the same thing to your nephew, young Cochran.’
‘Oh, no!’
‘Oh, yes!’ said Dover without mercy. ‘The details varied a bit, I grant you. Obviously, in his case, that landlady of his, Mrs Jolliott or whatever she’s called, was the prime mover, assisted by her retired district nurse lodger. I reckon they were waiting for him when he got back that Sunday night. Miss ffiske’d do the operation in the house. Then Mrs Jolliott gives it out that he’s cancelled his leave and keeps everybody away from him while he’s recovering. How else do you explain him spending a week in bed? He was convalescing, see. Mrs Jolliott and her lodger looked after him. I checked with your police surgeon. He says that the type of operation they’d probably do on your nephew would take about a week to recover from. Oh, it all fits. Mrs Jolliott and her nurse friend are members of the Ladies’ League. What more do you want?’
‘A hell of a lot,’ growled the Chief Constable. ‘Why did Peter commit suicide, for one thing?’
‘That’s a good question.’ Dover nodded approvingly. ‘Why have they all kept their traps shut about what’s happened to them? Well, put yourself in their shoes, sir. Would you go shouting it from the housetops? I wouldn’t! And I don’t pride myself on being a flipping Casanova, though I don’t mind admitting in my younger days …’
‘Peter killed himself! I’m still waiting for you to explain that.’
‘Annual medical,’ said Dover. ‘When he got back to duty on the Monday morning, he found his annual medical was due. You ask your station sergeant, he’ll confirm it. Well, your nephew knew only too well that once he got a proper going over by a doctor the cat’d be well and truly out of the bag. And doctors are only human, aren’t they? Your nephew just couldn’t face it if it got out. He’d be the laughing stock of the entire town. People sniggering behind his back and making jokes to his face. And he was another one, you see, always chasing after the girls and making out what a fine fellow-me-lad he was. I reckon the poor devil just couldn’t face it, and I can’t say I blame him. That only left Cully Point, didn’t it? Oh, and that wasn’t an accidental choice, either. He didn’t want his body found, you see. Poison or gassing or shooting himself – there’d be a post mortem, wouldn’t there? Well, they wouldn’t be likely to overlook something like castration, would they?’
‘But this is quite incredible! My wife is a member of the Ladies’ League and she thought the world of Peter. How could she be a party to castrating the boy? It just doesn’t make sense.’
‘Oh, I don’t suppose she knew anything about it. After all, she doesn’t live in Wallerton, does she? This business’ll be confined to a handful of ringleaders; the militant elite, as you might say.’
‘But they’re all such highly respectable women. If this comes out there’ll be the most terrible scandal.’
‘Well,’ said Dover, leaning back and blowing out his cheeks, ‘it’s going to come out now, all right. You can’t sweep this under the carpet. And the Ladies’ League won’t be the only ones to suffer. What about all the other poor devils who’ve had their wings clipped by Miss ffiske and company? They’re going to feel pretty sick about it.’
‘You don’t mean that there are others, besides my nephew and Hamilton?’
‘Dozens, I shouldn’t wonder,’ sighed Dover. ‘It all depends how many men there are in Wallerton who’ve been paying more attention to the fair sex than your precious Ladies’ League thinks right and proper. I know of three other cases myself.’
‘Oh, my God!’ groaned the Chief Constable.
‘There’s that fool of a taxi-driver, Armstrong, for a start. He cleared off for a week’s psychiatric treatment kindly arranged for him by a member of the Ladies’ League. Psychiatric treatment, my eye! You’ll remember what Armstrong’s favourite pastime was? Well, they cured him all right! And then there’s that fellow, Chauncey Davenport.’
‘Chauncey Davenport? Why, I know him quite well. We’ve met several times. You don’t mean to tell me he’s been … Well, well!’ The Chief Constable’s eyes glinted maliciously. ‘Of course! There was that queer business of him losing his memory or some such cock and bull story. Missing from home. I remember. Well, that was a fishy business and I said so at the time. Admittedly, I was thinking more of a week in Brighton with a barmaid, knowing Chauncey. And now you come to mention it, he has been keeping rather quiet lately. I thought his wife had been reading the riot act to him – it’s her money, you know – but you think …?’
‘I know,’ said Dover. ‘He started a fight the other day when one of his pals jokingly suggested that he was, er, acquiring female characteristics. Chauncey Davenport didn’t think it was funny.’
‘You don’t mean to say that that’s what happens?’ The Chief Constable was highly interested.
‘Can do, so it seems.’ Dover said. ‘And Chauncey Davenport shot off like a bullet out of a gun when your station sergeant suggested that the doc should have a look at him. Same pattern, you see. And then there’s a chap Sergeant Veitch mentioned. His wife’s had a dozen kids or so. The Ladies’ League must have thought she’d had enough. He disappeared for a day or two but I should think they only sterilized him. There is a difference, you know.’
‘Is there?’ asked the Chief Constable, almost smacking his lips.
‘Castration puts the kibosh on everything,’ explained Dover solemnly. ‘Sterilization only means that you can’t father kids.’
‘Go on!’
‘Well, I don’t know all the details,’ said Dover with becoming modesty. ‘ I just got a broad outline from your police surgeon. It’s not a subject I’ve paid much
