Laurence was determined to keep his temper. What he needed was information. He recognised nothing of John in Chilvers' view of him but he remembered Eleanor describing Vera Chilvers' crush on him.
'Treatment?'
'We kept him in the custody of his room. If he couldn't be trusted to respect our boundaries, then he needed to be restrained. It wasn't the first time. He was always chalenging our decisions.'
'Restrained?'
'Not a straitjacket, I'm afraid, if that's what you were hoping for. Locked in. Constantly supervised. He cut up about it, of course. For a period of time—a very short period of time—I had to sedate him with veronal. He could get quite violent when crossed.'
'You had the training to make such decisions?'
'I hardly feel I need to justify our regime to a self-confessed liar,' Chilvers retorted, and to Laurence's satisfaction he now appeared to be only just keeping his temper under control. 'Each patient has a broad range of medication and treatments written up by my father at admission, which covers al conceivable possible future requirements. The day-to-day treatment plans are a matter of discussion and we tend to pick and choose from what was prescribed in the patient's file. There can't be a doctor here every minute of the day.
'In this case, when my father returned to Holmwood he reversed the treatment decision. He likened Emmett's troublesomeness to pins and needles in a dead leg when circulation returns. My father's trade lends itself to metaphor. Unfortunately, and foolishly in my opinion, my father always had a soft spot for the man, but you only have to see what Emmett was capable of when he attacked our attendant outside the church. He may wel have been your friend, but he was violent, dangerous even.
Assault is what saw him admitted in the first place. You would have thought he would have had a better war.'
'You knew him in the war?' Laurence said, attempting to sound surprised. 'I hadn't realised. Were you in France?'
Chilvers flushed. He recovered almost immediately but Laurence knew he'd scored a hit. 'I knew of his war. It precipitated his ilness,' said Chilvers. 'Much to my regret I was unable to fight myself; I have a degree of scoliosis.' His hand curved towards his spine. 'One has to accept the limitations it imposes and move on.'
'It must be hard.'
'I fear I'm revealing a side of your friend that you didn't know?'
'I didn't actualy know him at al wel,' said Laurence. 'I know his sister.'
Something approaching amusement crept into Chilvers' voice but it made him if anything less attractive. 'Ah, yes. Emmett's sister. Or should I say 'sisters'? I'm reminded of that little ditty: 'The bible says to love my brother but I so good have grown,/ That I love other people's brothers better than my own.' So are we discussing his real sister or the one who prefers other people's brothers?'
'If you mean Mrs Bolitho then, yes, I know both women. I count them as friends.' Laurence was stil trying to keep his voice under control. 'But at present it is Captain Emmett's possessions I am interested in.'
'Al returned to his family, such as they were.'
'Not al, I think. I believe you retained some letters.'
'And your belief rests on what facts?'
'Because Mrs Bolitho tels me you have some correspondence from Captain Emmett to her and possibly from her to him.'
'Wel, I hardly think Mrs Bolitho can set up her camp on the high ground. Both of you playing your charades, but I imagine you're aware she's an adulteress, as wel as an impostor. A woman ful of tales and accusations. I hope she hasn't wrapped you around her little finger, Mr Bartram. Are you a married man?'
'The letters?' said Laurence, crisply. 'They are legaly the property of the family.'
He wanted to protest that Eleanor had had no further physical relationship with John once she decided to marry Wiliam but sensed that Chilvers would be more gratified than rebuked by any discussion of Eleanor's private life.
'No letters, I can assure you,' Chilvers said. 'Why should I lie? Violet ink and lascivious thoughts are hardly my reading of choice. If there ever were any letters, I can assure you they must have been long destroyed.'
'If there were letters, they should have been put before the coroner after John's death.'
'Indeed? I do have some grasp of the law, including that of defamation. Perhaps you have forgotten, or didn't know, despite the richness of your information, that I am a solicitor?'
'Does the Law Society know of the wils you've drawn up for patients and the bequests profiting you or your father?'
Chilvers shook his head. 'Clutching at straws, I think, Mr Bartram. The few wils I made are al quite in order, I think you'l find. The legal position of lunatics is entirely clear. No wils were made when any testator was of unsound mind. But some legal assistance with al kinds of matters is part of our service to our unfortunate guests.'
'And your wife?'
'My wife? Mr Bartram, are you now going to insult my wife? Or are you simply going to continue to insult me?'
'You drafted her wil?'
'I certainly did. And it was witnessed. You are obviously aware she was, for a while, a patient of my father's: a delicate woman, Vera, but, as you can see, she is stil very much alive. Because she is my wife, and as we have no children, if she died intestate her property would come to me in any case. However, any wil I drafted initialy for her was made void by our marriage. I fear I may be missing some point here?'
'You were blackmailing Mrs Bolitho,' Laurence said, nettled that the conversation was not going as he
