‘You know him?’
‘Only by reputation,’ admitted Dr M’Gillooly cautiously. ‘A right shifty little burk,’ Dover commented sourly. ‘He’s up to no good, if you ask me.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t pass any opinion on that judgment, Mr Dover.’ Dr M’Gillooly smiled in embarrassment. ‘A fellow practitioner, you understand.’
‘Load of old cod’s wallop, that,’ said Dover. ‘Downright dishonest, if you ask me-covering up for a scoundrel just because he’s a colleague. Catch me turning a blind eye where a crooked copper’s concerned! I’d jump on him soon as look at him, I would.’ Dover smiled grimly at the prospect. ‘It’d be my duty, see?’
‘Er—quite,’ said Dr M’Gillooly. He turned back to MacGregor. ‘Is there anything else? I have rather a large visiting list to get through this afternoon.’
‘Is Dr Nayland a competent man, do you think, sir?’
Dr M’Gillooly frowned. There were some subjects one preferred not to keep harping on. ‘I have no reason to think that he is not.’
‘He told John Perking—and us, too, if it comes to that— that Perking was sterile.’
‘Oh,’ said Dr M’Gillooly, and thought about it.
‘Does that surprise you, sir?’
‘Well, yes, I suppose it does, really.’ His frown deepened. ‘Mrs Perking, I do assure you, was pregnant. Of course, there could have been another man, I suppose.’
‘Did she give you any hint that that might be the situation?’
‘No, rather the reverse. As I told you, she was wildly delighted when I told her that she was pregnant. She was laughing and said she hoped it was a boy and she’d insist on it being called John after her husband—the sort of things any excited young wife would say in similar circumstances. I must confess I find it hard to believe that she was pregnant by another man.’
‘How about artificial insemination?’
Dr M’Gillooly sighed. These television programmes had a lot to answer for. ‘Quite out of the question.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’m afraid you will just have to accept my assurance on that point. I haven’t time to explain but the legal, moral and medical aspects are extremely complicated and I am absolutely certain that no arrangements of that kind could possibly have been made without my knowledge — to say nothing of the fact that the husband’s prior cognizance and consent is a sine qua non.’
MacGregor was beginning to acquire a haunted look. ‘Well, how do you explain it, doctor?’
‘Luckily I don’t have to. It could, I suppose, have been some chance, fleeting encounter with a perfect stranger. One has heard of childless wives resorting in desperation to that sort of thing. She may even have convinced herself that such an encounter never took place and that the child was, in fact, her husband’s. One has known stranger cases of self-deception.’
‘Could Dr Nayland have mistaken Perking’s condition?’
‘I should have hardly thought so. Besides, the diagnosis would be based on tests made at a laboratory. Apart from actually telling the patient I shouldn’t have thought Dr Nayland himself would have had much say in the matter.’
MacGregor handed over the letter which he had taken from Dr Nayland. Dr M’Gillooly read it.
‘Well, that’s that, isn’t it?’ He handed the letter back. ‘And now I must really ask you to excuse me.’
‘Just a minute!’ Dover scratched his head and the dandruff fell in its habitual shower on the shoulders of his overcoat. ‘This laboratory everybody keeps talking about —where is it?’
‘It’s attached to our general hospital, here in Pott Winckle. But a mistake on the lab’s part is quite out of the question. Everything they do is checked and double-checked. I have used them for many, many years and I have always found them absolutely reliable.’
Dover chewed his lip and then screwed his little finger deep in his left ear. Dr M’Gillooly watched him with some distaste. ‘Wax,’ explained Dover, holding out his finger in proof ‘Indeed?’ said Dr M’Gillooly coldly.
‘I reckon I need ’em syringing out.’ Dover smiled hopefully. Dr M’Gillooly smiled politely back. ‘You should consult your own doctor.’ He consulted his watch yet again. ‘Now, I really must . . . ’
‘When you examined Mrs Perking for pregnancy, what did you do exactly?’
‘Oh, really!’ Dr M’Gillooly seethed with impatience.
‘You needn’t go through the whole rigmarole,’ said Dover obligingly—he was not unaware that lunch-time was drawing near, ‘but I thought you or somebody said something about making some tests.’
‘That is correct. One takes a sample of blood which is then injected into a rabbit and . . . ’
‘Do you do all that?’
‘Of course not. I send the blood samples to the laboratory.’
‘The same laboratory?’
Dr M’Gillooly’s forehead creased in another frown. ‘Well, yes, the same laboratory.’
Chapter Fourteen
DOVER didn’t make the same mistake twice. At least, not on this occasion. Immediately after lunch MacGregor was dispatched to phone up the local hospital and make an appointment with the director of the laboratory while Dover, top trouser-button undone, concentrated on his digestive processes.
MacGregor walked slowly back across the hotel lounge. He was not feeling particularly happy. What was there about Pott Winckle that made the Chief Inspector so reluctant to leave? MacGregor couldn’t for the life of him imagine. Maybe Mrs Dover was making life uncomfortable for her spouse in Acacia Avenue? Maybe Dover’s sister-in-law had come to stay again? Or, perhaps, was it Scotland Yard itself that Dover was giving a wide berth to? The Assistant Commissioner (Crime) was inclined to go into apoplexy at the mere sight of the Metropolitan Police’s most unwanted man. Maybe he had issued an ultimatum: get out and stay out? It wouldn’t, MacGregor reflected glumly, be the first time.
Well, thought MacGregor—his heart sinking as he caught sight of the semi-recumbent source of all his trouble — nobody but a fool would accept Dover’s own justification for this shameless waste of public time and money. It might be true that Dover rejoiced to see the guilty get more than they deserved but that didn’t mean he was going to exert himself to see
