Dover haughtily ignored the proffered suggestion. He was nearly halfway towards his goal now. The waiting patients switched to more militant action. A wizened old lady gallantly thrust her walking stick out in an attempt to trip up the intruder. She was a fraction too late. A well-muscled young woman, temporarily abandoning her brood of six adenoidal kids, rose from her seat by the surgery door. Arms akimbo, she barred Dover’s way.
‘Hey, cheeky! Where d’you think you’re going?’
Dover hesitated. This was no nine-stone weakling. ‘I want to see the doctor.’
‘Watcher think we’re doing then, eh? Waiting for a tram?’
‘I happen to be on important official business, madam.’ Dover managed a patronizing smile.
A rather surprising suggestion as to what he should do with his official business came from a neatly dressed female with a bad case of varicose veins and a nasty cold. Dover, mouth sagging in astonishment, made the tactical error of turning to look at her. When he turned back again he found that the living barrier had been reinforced. No less than six stalwart patients now stood resolute between him and the surgery door.
‘There’s the end of the queue,’ said the Amazon, complacently watching her youngest brat slobber over Dover’s left boot. ‘We don’t have no favouritism here.’ The waiting room nodded its collective head in solemn agreement. ‘First come first served and last come last served. I haven’t been sitting here two solid hours to stand by like a muggins while somebody like you pushes in before me.’
‘That’s right!’ A rheumy-eyed old fellow poked irritably at Dover with one of his two walking sticks. ‘Back in line, sonnie!’
Dover took a step forward. The barrier stiffened and closed its ranks. The old man raised one stick defensively. Dover saw the chance of a cheap revenge and, to MacGregor’s eternal shame, took it. His foot shot out and neatly kicked the old man’s other stick away. The old man crashed to the floor with a howl of despair and all hell broke loose. Hitherto passive onlookers seized magazines from the waiting-room table, rolled them up and used them to belabour round the ears those who had dared to flout the most sacred of British traditions. In no time at all Dover was bitten, thumped, pushed and generally abused. MacGregor, only too eager to leave his master to the fate he had so richly asked for, found his own retreat cut off and tried vainly to protect his head and face with his arms.
The receptionist rushed in from the hall. Dr M’Gillooly and a stark-naked patient rushed in from the surgery. Gradually order and decorum were restored. Dover and MacGregor found themselves, resentful but chastened, sitting side by side on two chairs at the end of the queue. The other patients, breathless but triumphant, were eventually prevailed upon to resume their rightful places and interrupted conversations.
Dover and MacGregor didn’t have more than an hour and a half to wait before they got Dr M’Gillooly all to themselves.
T can’t imagine’, said Dr M’Gillooly tartly, ‘why you had to come during surgery. You might have known I wouldn’t have time to see you.’
‘On murder inquiries’, Dover told him with equal tartness, ‘every second counts.’
‘But I thought you’d already arrested your man? Don’t tell me that, once again, the police have blundered. Both Mr Perking and his wife were patients of mine and I must say I find the idea that he murdered her in such a brutal manner quite ludicrous. They were a most affectionate couple and he always struck me as being a very decent fellow.’
‘He struck me as being a thug and a sadist,’ snarled Dover. He indicated the remains of his black eyes. ‘Look what he did to me in an entirely uncalled-for and unprovoked attack. If I hadn’t been pretty capable of looking after myself in a punch-up he might have killed me. An absolutely ungoverned temper, that’s what Perking has.’
Dr M’Gillooly looked at the door leading to the waiting room and offered no comment. ‘What was it you wanted to see me about?’
‘Cynthia Perking’s pregnancy,’ said Dover. ‘We’re a bit puzzled about it.’
‘I can’t see why. It was all quite normal. Conception had been rather a long time coming but it had happened in the end. When she first came to see me I was pretty certain that she was pregnant, but at such an early stage one can’t always be sure. However, one can carry out a perfectly simple test and this is, in fact, precisely what I did. When the results came back they proved that Mrs Perking was pregnant and when she came to see me on the morning of the day she was killed, I told her so. Poor girl, she was so thrilled.’
‘I believe’, said MacGregor, ‘that she had consulted you earlier about her inability to conceive.’
‘That is correct. I arranged a full examination. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her and I told her so.’
‘And her husband?’
Dr M’Gillooly sighed. ‘Well, obviously, one would have liked to examine him as well. It was the only logical thing to do. However, without his consent and co-operation, my hands were tied. Mrs Perking told me that he absolutely refused to come in for an examination and, indeed, that he was so touchy about the whole subject that he wouldn’t even come in and have a chat with me. Some men are like that, you know. It was a pity but one could understand his attitude in a way. A man does have his pride.’
‘Would you’, asked MacGregor, venturing to continue the questioning as Dover seemed to have lost interest, ‘be surprised to hear that John Perking did in fact consult another doctor on the question of his sterility?’
Dr M’Gillooly pursed his lips. ‘No, not really. These things are often easier to discuss with a stranger. A strange doctor? No, that does not surprise me. Which doctor was it, by the way?’
‘Dr Nayland.’
‘Oh.’ Dr
