‘Leave the door open,’ advised Dover.
‘What? Oh, yes. Naturally.’
Dr Nayland disappeared into his surgery. There was the sound of a filing cabinet being opened, the clink of a glass and the soft gurgle of liquid being poured out of a bottle. Dr Nayland came back. There was slightly more colour in his face and he was dabbing his moustache with a huge gaudy silk handkerchief. ‘That’s better,’ he observed, carefully not looking at anybody. ‘Purely medicinal, of course. Got to watch the old ticker, eh? Legacy of the war, I’m afraid.’
‘John Perking,’ Dover reminded him.
‘Yes —well —you can’t hold me responsible, can you? I mean, if a doctor prescribes a certain treatment for one of his patients, he does it in good faith, doesn’t he? It’s not his fault if the patient tries the stuff out on the cat or whatever, is it?’ .
‘Perking beat his wife’s head in with a poker,’ said Dover impatiently.
Dr Nayland looked happier. ‘Did he, by gum? Sounds a violent-tempered fellow.’
‘He is,’ said Dover, with feeling.
‘But, what’s it got to do with me, then?’
‘John Perking came to see you on the morning of the day he killed his wife.’
‘He did?’ Dr Nayland evinced surprise. ‘Well, you may be right. I’ve got a shocking memory for names.’
‘For God’s sake,’ exploded Dover who wasn’t finding the wooden bench the most comfortable seat in the world, ‘you keep records, don’t you?’
‘Er—yes,’ agreed Dr Nayland, looking round helplessly.
‘Well, go and look at ’em!’ Dover jerked his head at MacGregor who ushered Dr Nayland ahead of him, back into the surgery.
Dover closed his eyes and composed himself for forty winks. In a thoughtlessly short space of time MacGregor was back again.
‘Three grubby cards in a shoe box!’ he announced contemptuously.
Dr Nayland had trailed back behind him. ‘Of course, mine is a private practice, you understand. I don’t lumber myself up with all this National Health Service red tape.’
‘We’ve managed to trace Perking, anyhow,’ said MacGregor.
Dover grunted. ‘Get on with it!’
‘Come on, Nayland!’ snapped MacGregor in his turn. ‘Let’s be hearing what this is all about.’
Dr Nayland tucked his cardboard box under one arm and sorted unhappily through a sheaf of letters which he had also brought with him. ‘I don’t know’, he murmured, ‘that this is quite ethical. Doctor-patient relationship, you know. Secrets of the confessional, and all that.’
Dover snorted.
Dr Nayland was offended. ‘One still has one’s principles, you know. One’s Hippocratic oath, for instance.’
Dover’s patience, unlike the widow’s cruse, habitually ran out at an alarming speed. The seedy Dr Nayland had ceased to amuse him. In order that Dr Nayland himself should have cognizance of the situation Dover rose majestically to his feet and thrust his face close to that of the unfortunate medical practitioner. Dr Nayland recoiled.
‘Listen, doc,’ rasped Dover, ‘don’t try getting clever with me or I’ll lean on you so hard you won’t know what’s hit you! When I ask you for information, spit it out quick, see? Otherwise I’ll drag it out of you — teeth and all!’
Dr Nayland cringed.
‘And don’t give me any of that crap about your Hippocratic oath, either,’ Dover continued heavily. ‘If I’m any judge of character you kept your fingers crossed when you took it all right. This is a murder case and I’m in a hurry. Talk!’
‘But, suppose this Perking man sues me?’ whimpered Dr Nayland. ‘Suppose the B.M.A. finds out? They’ll chuck me out again and then what’ll I do?’
‘My heart’s bleeding,’ scoffed Dover, ‘and your nose will be if you don’t get a move-on.’
Dr Nayland shrugged his shoulders. ‘What is it you want to know?’
Once Dover had achieved his capitulation he lost interest. He raised his eyebrows at MacGregor and slumped back on to his bench again. MacGregor, notebook and pencil at the ready, moved smartly forward. Like his master he had realized that Dr Nayland was unlikely to stand up for his rights under common law or anything else.
‘Is John Perking a regular patient of yours?’ he demanded. Dr Nayland sat down gingerly on another bench. ‘No, not what you’d call regular. He rang me up —oh —about three weeks or so ago and asked me for an appointment. I —er— managed to squeeze him in that very lunch hour as a matter of fact. Sudden cancellation, you understand. Well, he duly arrived. I must admit I was a bit disappointed when I actually saw him. A rather common-looking young man. Not what you’d call officer material, don’t you know. I made a point of mentioning my charge for a consultation right away. He seemed a little surprised at the amount but he didn’t kick up any fuss about it. Which is more than you can say about some of them,’ he added resentfully. ‘I’d like to insist on payment in advance but it hardly seems ethical.’
MacGregor ignored the financial difficulties of the medical profession and returned to the point. ‘This was Perking’s first visit to you, was it?’
‘Yes.’
‘And what did he want to consult you about?’
Dr Nayland wriggled half-heartedly. ‘This goes very much against the grain, I must say. I want it put on record that I’m only doing this under extreme pressure. Mr Perking consulted me about a very delicate and intimate matter.’
‘Which was?’
‘Well, he wanted to know if he was capable of fathering children.’
Dover and MacGregor exchanged glances. ‘Sounds reasonable,’ said Dover condescendingly.
Dr Nayland was furious. ‘I don’t know what that remark is supposed to mean but if it’s an insinuation that I am expected to be lying I want it put on record that I entirely refute the implication.’
‘I don’t quite understand’, said MacGregor, ‘why Perking should consult you. Why didn’t he go to his own doctor?’
Dr Nayland flung up his hands in despair. ‘Because he wanted his consultation on the quiet, that’s why. It’s understandable, isn’t it? It’s not the sort of thing any chap wants bandied around the town. In the normal course I should have sent him to the hospital for the tests but, in view
