Seeing is Believing

Courtney with a face fierce in desperation, when they had another interruption.

Courtney was shocked at the change in Dr. Richard Rich's appearance. Dr. Rich hurried round the side of the house, round the concrete path past the back drawing-room windows.

His face was haggard. The roll of hair, sprawling out from under the back of his soft black hat, had not been brushed in several days. But the expression on his face was one of relief so great that it might be difficult to express.

'I beg your pardon,' said Rich, stopping short and kiting his hat. 'Is Sir Henry Merrivale here? The maid said he was 'out back.' '

'He's here, but I don't think you can see him now. They've gone up to speak to Mrs. Fane. Was it anything in particular?'

'I just want to thank him,' Rich said simply.

He mopped his forehead.

'He did me the courtesy,' Rich went on, 'of sending a note round to my lodging house. We don't boast a telephone there. He said that Mrs. Fane's illness was not caused by tetanus, but by strychnine poisoning. He added-'

Rich paused. Fumbling in the breast pocket of his jacket, he drew out a folded sheet of notepaper.

' 'There's something else,' ' he read aloud, bunking against the sunlight. ' 'I've got a bit of influence here and there, son. I'd like to reopen your other case — you — know what I mean — before the Medical Council. I think we might get you reinstated yet. Chirrup, son. You're not dead yet.' '

Abruptly Rich folded up the letter and put it back in his pocket.

'I never thought I should live to say 'thank God' again,' he added, 'but I do now.'

Ann was standing uncomfortably, her eyes on the ground.

'I'm afraid I said some rather unpleasant things to you the other night, Dr. Rich,' she told him. 'But I was upset at the time. I'm sorry.'

Rich smiled.

'Miss Browning! Lord! That doesn't matter at all. Please forget it. We were all upset, if it comes to that.' He smiled again. 'You're looking at my hand? It's nothing. I've been very disturbed since Thursday night, and I cut it shaving. A bit of sticking-plaster covers the damage.' He brushed this aside. 'No. What does matter is this new aspect of the case.'

'The strychnine?' said Courtney.

'Yes! The strychnine! Is there some place where we can sit down?'

Courtney led the way along the gravel path through the garden, to the tree-shaded lawn at the back. Ann sat down on the stone bench under the apple tree. Rich, out of condition, panted a little as he perched himself on the opposite end.

'If I'm not top inquisitive,' said Ann, 'what did that note mean when it said, 'your ether case'? What other case?'

Rich's eyes narrowed.

'But you… gad, no!' He stared at the past. 'You weren't in the room when I told about it. You didn't come in until afterwards. I forgot.' Color made his face more red. 'It is nothing. Shall we change the subject?'

'What other case? Please!'

Rich contemplated her for a moment.

'Very well,' he agreed grimly. 'You ought to know with whom you've been breaking bread. I'm a miserable sinner, Miss Browning. I was struck off the medical-'

'Easy, now!' Courtney interposed soothingly. 'Is there any necessity for this?' Rich gestured him to silence.

'— register. I was accused of having… if you want to use a polite word, you can say 'seduced'.. one of my patients while she was under hypnosis.'

'Oh.'

'I was not guilty. I swear it. One day, perhaps soon, I may be able to prove it. And then! My name will still be mud, of course, so far as general practice is concerned. But some official post: a snip's doctor, say!'

Ann was looking at the branches of the tree overhead. She nodded as though she followed this.

'But to have been accused of this affair, of being mad enough to drive a contaminated pin into a person's arm, would have finished me past all hope. Relieved? Gad, I could dance the fandango!'

'Doctor,' said Courtney quietly, 'would you mind if I asked you one question?'

'Not at all. Ask away.'

He filled his pipe, lighted it, and watched the gray smoke hang heavily in die thick thundery air.

Birds bickered among the vines. The stone wall giving on the lane was gray and blotched. These trees, with the green and yellow apples and the dark blue sheen of plums, seemed to shed heat down like the inside of a tent. You could hear the dim hum of wasps.

''Doctor,' pursued Courtney, taking the pipe out of his mouth, 'on the night you gave that demonstration with the pin, I was outside on the balcony.'

Silence.

'You were.. what?”

'I was eavesdropping. Not of my own free will; but there you are. I saw and heard everything you did. In particular, I overheard the questions you asked Mrs. Fane when she was still under hypnosis.'

'Indeed,' said Rich. His throat seemed dry. His fingers closed round the edges of the bench under him.

'And I heard her answers. What I want to know is why you didn't tell the police about it. H.M. gave you an opportunity to, at that same interview you were speaking of a minute ago. But you said you had nothing to add.'

Again silence.

'Do the police,' asked Rich, after reflection, 'know about this?' 'Yes.'

'So it's only a question of time before they—?'

'Ask you? Yes. I wonder they haven't asked you already.'

Ann too, he noticed, was watching Rich. But he saw her only out of the tail of his eye. The hum of the quiet, shut-in garden lay drowsy on the senses.

Rich cleared his throat.

'Young man,' he said, 'this whole affair has consisted in putting me, and me alone, in a series of false positions. You're quite right. I don't deny it. I did ask Mrs. Fane those questions.'

'Thanks.'

'No sarcasm, sir. I asked the questions because I was curious. Nothing more. I naturally guessed, when I was putting Mrs. Fane through the 'routine' downstairs beforehand, that she had some intense emotional associations with the sofa, that song, and the rest of it. My curiosity was — scientific. I wanted to know who and what and why.'

'That's understandable.'

'Yes. But wait.' Again Rich hesitated. 'Well, here's trouble again! But it's got to be told sooner or later. When I asked Mrs. Fane those questions in the bedroom, I heard a certain name.'

'Yes. I remember the expression on your face, and how you clenched your fists when you heard it.'

Rich closed his eyes, and opened them again.

'Mr. Courtney, a year or two ago, when I was on the stage with my hypnotic turn, I had a girl-assistant. When I talked with Sir Henry Merrivale (again at that same interview), I was off guard: I made a slip of speech; and I almost mentioned that young lady's name.'

Courtney nodded.

'Yes,' he said. 'The girl's name was Polly Allen, wasn't it?'

Sixteen

Rich's face was hot and bitter.