“ ‘Too bad,’ I said. ‘I reckon that seeing me will be just the thing to cheer her up.’
“ ‘She’s not seeing anyone, I tell you,’ she went on.
“ ‘She’ll see little Wallie,’ I said. ‘Why, according to my father, she was clean gone on me when I was a child. Used to give me my bath, and doses of dill-water. Fair potty about me was Aunt Amelia. Besides, I’ve got a little memento for her that my father gave me to hand over to her.’
“As a matter of fact I’d bought a small pearl necklace on the way up.
“ ‘I tell you she can’t see you,’ snapped the woman. ‘She’s ill. You come back next week and she may be better.’
“Well, there was nothing for it: I leaned against the door and the door opened. And I tell you, Stockton, I got the shock of my life. Standing at the foot of the stairs was a man with the most staggering face I’ve ever thought of. Tufts of hair sprouted from it like whin bushes on a seaside links: he was the King Emperor of Beavers. But it wasn’t that that stopped me in my tracks, it was the look of diabolical fury in his eyes. He came towards me—and he was a heavyweight all right—with a pair of great black hairy fists clenched at his sides. And what he resembled most was a dressed-up gorilla.
“ ‘What the devil do you want?’ he snarled at me from the range of about a foot.
“ ‘Aunt Amelia,’ I said, staring him in the eyes. ‘And I reckon you’re not the lady in question.’
“I saw the veins beginning to swell in his neck, and the part of his face not covered with vegetation turned a rich magenta.
“ ‘You infernal puppy,’ he shouted. ‘Didn’t you hear that Miss Simpson was ill?’
“ ‘The fact is hardly to be wondered at with you about the house,’ I retorted, getting ready, I don’t mind telling you, Stockton, for the father and mother of scraps.
“But he didn’t hit me: he made a desperate effort and controlled himself.
“ ‘I am Miss Simpson’s doctor,’ he said, ‘and I will tell her of your visit. If you leave your address I will see that you are communicated with as soon as she is fit to receive visitors.’
“Now that told one beyond dispute that there was something wrong. If he really had been the old lady’s doctor: if she really was ill upstairs, my intentionally insulting remark could only have been received as vulgar and gratuitous impertinence. So I thought I’d try another.
“ ‘If this is a sample of your bedside manner,’ I said, ‘she won’t be fit to receive visitors for several years.’
“And once again I thought he was going to hit me, but he didn’t.
“ ‘If you come back tomorrow morning at this hour,’ he remarked, ‘I think your aunt may be fit to receive you. At the moment I fear I must forbid it.’
“Well, I did some pretty rapid thinking. In the first place I knew the man was lying: he probably wasn’t a doctor at all. No man with a face like that could be a doctor: all his patients would have died of shock. In the second place I’d had a fleeting glimpse out of the corner of my eye of a couple of men upstairs who were examining me through a mirror hanging on the wall—a mirror obviously placed for that very purpose with regard to visitors.
“And another thing stuck out a yard: throughout the whole of our conversation he had kept between me and the stairs. Of course it might have been accidental: on the other hand, it might not. The way it struck me, however, was that he was afraid, seeing that I was obviously a breezy customer, that I might make a dash for it. And I damned nearly did, Stockton—damned nearly.
“However, not quite. I’d seen two men upstairs and there might be more: moreover, the bird I was talking to—if he was as strong as he looked—would have been an ugly customer by himself. And even if I’d got to the top and been able to explore the rooms, it wouldn’t have done much good. I couldn’t have tackled the show single-handed.
“So I pulled myself together, and did my best to appear convinced.
“ ‘Well, I’m real sorry Aunt Amelia’s so sick,’ I said. ‘And I’ll come round tomorrow as you say, Doctor. Just give her my love, will you, and on my way back I’ll call in and tell ’em to send along some grapes.’
“His mouth cracked in what I presume was a genial smile.
“ ‘That is very good of you,’ he answered. ‘I feel sure Miss Simpson will appreciate your kind attention.’
“And with that I hopped it, sent up some grapes, and that’s that.”
He lit a cigarette and stared at me with a smile.
“But didn’t you tell the police?” I cried excitedly.
“Tell ’em what?” he answered.
“Why, that there’s foul play going on there,” I almost shouted.
“Steady, old man,” he said quietly. “Your lad outside will die of a rush of blood to the head if he hears you.”
“No, but look here, Drummond,” I said, lowering my voice, “you may have hit on the key of the whole affair.”
“I think it’s more than probable that I have,” he answered calmly. “But that seems to me to be quite an unnecessary reason to go trotting off to the police.”
“But I say, old man,” I began feebly, mindful of my previous resolutions. And then the darned fellow grinned at me in that lazy way of his, and I laughed.
“What do you propose to do?” I said at length.
“Anticipate the visit to Aunt Amelia by some nine or ten hours, and go there tonight. Are you on?”
“Confound you,” I said, “of course I am.”
“Good fellow,” he cried. “I knew you’d do it.”
He took his feet off the desk and leaned towards me.
“Stockton,” he said quietly, “we’re hot on the track. I know we are. Whether or not we shall find that unfortunate old lady upstairs I haven’t
