far as putting his full name or address on the letters. Phryne folded them carefully in their original creases and slipped them back into the envelopes and the ribbon. Mrs McNaughton had hidden depths. Her husband’s name was — or had been — William, and she had been married for many years. The letters were recent, the paper and ink were fresh. The incriminating correspondence was back in the bag and Phryne was staring idly into the fire by the time Dot and Mr B. re-entered, escorting a very young doctor.
He was tall and slim, with curly hair and dark brown eyes. Phryne felt an immediate interest and stood up to greet him. He took a stride forward, caught his foot in the hearthrug, and almost fell into Phryne’s arms. She embraced him heartily, feeling the strong flat muscles in his back before she replaced him on his feet and smiled at him.
‘I’m Phryne Fisher,’ she said warmly. ‘Are you the local doctor?’
‘Yes,’ stammered the enchanting young man, blushing with embarrassment. ‘Sorry. I still haven’t got used to the length of my legs. Hope I didn’t hurt you. I’m Dr Fielding. I’ve just started with old Dr Dorset; I’ve only been here a few months.’
‘I’ve just moved in,’ said Phryne. ‘I hope we shall be friends. Meanwhile, this is Mrs McNaughton.’ She indicated the supine woman, and Dr Fielding lost his clumsiness. He took a chair and sat down beside the patient, gestured to Mr B. to bring his bag, then gently pulled back the ragged hair from her face. He unhooked his watch and took her pulse, put away the watch, and laid the limp hot hand down carefully.
‘She’s collapsed from some terrible shock,’ he said sternly. ‘What has happened?’
‘Her son has just been arrested for murdering her husband,’ said Phryne. ‘I think that you would call that a terrible shock. She arrived at the door in a state and fainted into Mr B.’s arms. Did she say anything, Mr Butler?’
‘No, Miss Fisher. Just her name. Then she keeled over. Shall I fetch anything, Doctor?’ His voice was quietly respectful.
‘Yes, can you go down to the chemist and fill this prescription?’ Dr Fielding scribbled busily. ‘I can give her an injection which will help for the moment, and then she should be put to bed.’
‘Doctor, she doesn’t live here,’ protested Phryne. ‘She should be taken to her own home. And if I am to investigate the matter, I need her awake, at least for a short time, to tell me what happened when her husband was murdered.’ Dr Fielding looked Phryne in the eye.
‘I will not give the patient anything that will act to her detriment, Miss Fisher.’
‘I am not asking you to, Dr Fielding. All I want is a safe stimulant so that she can tell me what she wants me to do. I can’t act without instructions, and only she can give them to me. If she’s going to be laid up with an attack of brain fever or something she might be
Mrs McNaughton stirred and tried to sit up. Phryne brought a glass of water, and she sipped.
‘Oh, Miss Fisher, you must help me. They’ve arrested Bill.’
‘Delighted to help, but you must calm down, take a deep breath, and tell me what happened.’
‘I went out to call in Danny the dog. It was getting dark and I heard him howling, on the tennis-court. I went out and there was William lying on the court with his head. . horrible, all that blood. . and I screamed, and the police came, and took Bill away and now they’ll hang him.’
Her voice was rising into hysteria. Dr Fielding put a large soothing hand on her wrist. Phryne smiled as confidently as she could.
‘Calm yourself, my dear. I will investigate the matter. Today I’ll go and see Bill and I’ll do my best to get him out. All you have to do is close your eyes and rest. You won’t be useful to Bill in your present state. Now Dr Fielding will give you an injection and when you wake up you’ll be in your own house.’
Dr Fielding was prompt upon his cue and the tortured eyes lost their rigid gaze.
‘Right, now we shall see what we shall see. Mr B., what about the medicine?’
‘I’ve sent the boy next door for it, Miss. I thought that I should call Mrs McNaughton’s home.’
‘Quite right. Was anyone home?’
‘Yes, Miss, the lady’s daughter. She is on her way to fetch her mother and asks that we wait for her. She has also given me the name and telephone number of the lady’s own medical practitioner. I’ve telephoned him and he would like a word with Dr Fielding.’
Dr Fielding paled, tripped over a small table, and took the receiver. There was a short conversation which Phryne did not catch, then he hung up. A relieved smile illuminated his pleasant face.
‘I appear to have adopted the right course of treatment. Her doctor says that she is a nervous subject. Well, you don’t need me anymore, Miss Fisher.’
‘Oh, yes I do,’ said Phryne hurriedly, unwilling to let the first pretty young man she had seen for weeks out of her sight. ‘Please stay until the daughter comes and oversee the start of the journey, at least. Sit down, Doctor. We shall have tea.’
Dr Fielding was a skilled medical practitioner, but his social encounters had been limited. Against Phryne he did not stand a chance.
He sat down and accepted a cup of tea.
Molly Maldon received the return of Jack Leonard and her husband with barely concealed anxiety.
‘Nothing?’ she whispered. Henry shook his head.
‘She was angry with me for not taking her to the lolly shop,’ Mrs Maldon sat down suddenly. ‘She stopped asking me, after a while, and that isn’t like Candida. The lolly shop. Of course!’ Without taking off her apron or putting on her hat, Molly Maldon ran down the hall and out through the door, into the street like a steeplechaser. Jack and Henry looked at each other, and shook their heads. There was no accounting for women. It was well known.
Molly tore round the corner and struggled through the bamboo curtain. The window was packed with gingerbread men in golden coats. How Candida had coveted those sixpenny gingerbread soldiers. After her spanking she should have a whole one to herself, thought Molly. The shop bell jangled wildly.
‘Have you seen a small girl in a blue dress, fair hair and an Alice band?’
‘Why yes,’ said the shopkeeper. ‘She told me her name — Candida, she said. Spent threepence on lollies. I told her not to eat them all at once. Why? Ain’t her dad brought her home yet? He left a good two hours ago.’
‘Her dad?’ gasped Molly, wondering for a distracted moment if Henry were playing a joke on her. If so, he would know how she felt about it seconds after he gave Candida back.
‘Yes, in a big black car, a woman and a man.’
‘What kind of car?’
‘Like I said, a big black one. My Jimmy might have noticed more, clean mad about motors, he is.’
‘Where is Jimmy, then?’
‘He’s gone to school, Missus, he was only here for lunch, but he’ll be home at half-past three, if you want to come back. What’s the trouble? Has something happened to the little girl?’
‘Yes,’ said Molly, and ran out of the shop.
There, lying in the gutter, was a bag of sweets. Mint leaves and silver sticks spilled onto the ground. Molly gathered them up tenderly and ran back to her husband.
‘Hello, old girl, did you find her?’ asked Henry, looking up from the depths of a comfortable armchair. Molly flung the bag of lollies into his lap and screamed.
‘I think she’s been kidnapped. The sweet-shop woman saw her taken away in a big black car. Call the police!’
Henry brushed off the cascade of honeybears and bananas, and stood up to take his wife in a close embrace. She was weeping bitterly.
‘Call the police,’ she whispered into his chest. ‘Call the police.’
He shook her gently. ‘Hang on, dear girl, let’s not go off half-cocked. If she’s been kidnapped for money then we must wait for a ransom note. If we bring the police into it they might hurt her. . they might. .’ He could not go on.
Jack Leonard handed him a whisky and soda which was mostly whisky.
They settled down to wait. Henry Maldon would have preferred flying over Antarctica in a blizzard.
