respect for human life that the normal Englishman has. Any man who is a stumbling block on the way of progress ought to be eliminated — that's how I see it.'
Running his hand through his short fair hair, Doctor Thomas said, 'Yes, but who is to be the judge of a man's fitness or unfitness?'
'You'd have to have a scientific man as judge,' said Luke. 'Someone with an unbiased but highly specialized mind — a doctor, for instance. Come to that, I think you'd be a pretty good judge yourself. Doctor.'
'Of unfitness to live?'
'Yes.'
Doctor Thomas shook his head. 'My job is to make the unfit fit. Most of the time it's an uphill job, I'll admit.'
'Now, just for the sake of argument,' said Luke. 'Take a man like the late Harry Carter –'
Doctor Thomas said sharply, 'Carter? You mean the landlord of the Seven Stars?'
'Yes, that's the man. I never knew him myself, but my cousin, Miss Conway, was talking about him. He seems to have been a really thoroughgoing scoundrel.'
'Well,' said the other, 'he drank, of course. Ill-treated his wife, bullied his daughter. He was quarrelsome and abusive, and had had a row with most people in the place.'
'In fact, the world is a better place without him?'
'One might be inclined to say so, I agree.'
'In fact, if somebody had given him a push and sent him into the river instead of his kindly electing to fall in of his own accord, that person would have been acting in the public interest?'
Doctor Thomas said dryly, 'These methods that you advocate — did you put them into practice in the — Mayang Straits, I think you said?'
Luke laughed. 'Oh, no, with me it's theory, not practice.'
'No, I do not think you are the stuff of which murderers are made.'
'Tell me — it interests me — have you ever come across a man you believed might be a murderer?'
Doctor Thomas said sharply, 'Really, what an extraordinary question!'
'Is it? After all, a doctor must come across so many queer characters. He would be better able to detect, for instance, the signs of homicidal mania in an early stage, before it's noticeable.'
Thomas said rather irritably, 'You have the general layman's idea of a homicidal maniac — a man who runs amok with a knife, a man more or less foaming at the mouth. Let me tell you, a homicidal lunatic may be the most difficult thing on this earth to spot. To all seeming he may be exactly like everyone else — a man, perhaps, who is easily frightened, who may tell you, perhaps, that he has enemies. No more than that. A quiet inoffensive fellow.'
'Is that really so?'
'Of course it's so. A homicidal lunatic often kills, as he thinks, in self-defense. But, of course, a lot of killers are ordinary sane fellows like you and me.'
'Doctor, you alarm me! Fancy if you should discover later that I have five or six quiet little killings to my credit.'
Doctor Thomas smiled. 'I don't think it's very likely, Mr. Fitzwilliam.'
'Don't you? I'll return the compliment. I don't believe you've got five or six murders to your credit either.'
Doctor Thomas said cheerfully, 'You're not counting my professional failures.'
Both men laughed. Luke got up and said good-bye. 'I'm afraid I've taken up a lot of your time,' he said apologetically.
'Oh, I'm not busy. Wychwood is a pretty healthy place. It's a pleasure to have a talk with someone from the outside world.'
'I was wondering –' said Luke and stopped.
'Yes?'
'Miss Conway told me, when she sent me to you, what a very — well, what a first-class man you were. I wondered if you didn't feel rather buried down here? Not much opportunity for talent.'
'Oh, general practice is a good beginning. It's valuable experience.'
'But you won't be content to stay in a rut all your life. Your late partner. Doctor Humbleby, was an unambitious fellow, so I've heard — quite content with his practice here. He'd been here for a good many years, I believe.'
'Practically a lifetime.'
'He was sound but old-fashioned, so I hear.'
Doctor Thomas said, 'At times he was difficult. Very suspicious of modern innovations, but a good example of the old school of physicians.'
'Left a very pretty daughter, I'm told,' said Luke in jocular fashion.
He had the pleasure of seeing Doctor Thomas' pale pink countenance go a deep scarlet. 'Oh — er — yes,' he said.
Luke gazed at him kindly. He was pleased at the prospect of erasing Doctor Thomas from his list of suspected persons. The latter recovered his normal hue and said abruptly, 'Talking about crime just now, I can lend you rather a good book, as you are interested in the subject. Translation from the German. Kreuzhammer on Inferiority and Crime.'
'Thank you,' said Luke.
Doctor Thomas ran his finger along a shelf and drew out the book in question. 'Here you are. Some of the theories are rather startling, and of course they are only theories, but they are interesting. The early life of Menzheld, for instance, the Frankfurt butcher, as they called him, and the chapter on Anna Helm, the little nursemaid killer, are really extremely interesting.'
'She killed about a dozen of her charges before the authorities tumbled to it, I believe,' said Luke.
Doctor Thomas nodded. 'Yes. She had a most sympathetic personality — devoted to children, and apparently quite genuinely heartbroken at each death. The psychology is amazing.'
'Amazing how these people get away with it.'
He was on the doorstep now. Doctor Thomas had come out with him. 'Not amazing, really,' said Doctor Thomas. 'It's quite easy, you know.'
'What is?'
'To get away with it.' He was smiling again — a charming, boyish smile. 'If you're careful. One just has to be careful, that's all. But a clever man is extremely careful not to make a slip. That's all there is to it.' He smiled again and went into the house.
Luke stood staring up the steps. There had been something condescending in the doctor's smile. Throughout their conversation, Luke had been conscious of himself as a man of full maturity and of Doctor Thomas as a youthful and ingenuous young man.
Just for the moment he felt the roles reversed! The doctor's smile had been that of a grown-up amused by the cleverness of a child.
Chapter 9
In the little shop in the High Street, Luke had bought a tin of cigarettes and today's copy of Good Cheer, the enterprising little weekly which provided Lord Easterfield with a good portion of his substantial income. Turning to the football competition, Luke, with a groan, gave forth the information that he had just failed to win a hundred and twenty pounds. Mrs. Pierce was roused at once to sympathy and explained similar disappointments on the part of her husband.
Friendly relations thus established, Luke found no difficulty in prolonging the conversation.
'A great interest in football, Mr. Pierce takes,' said Mr. Pierce's spouse. 'Turns to it first of all in the news, he does. And, as I say, many a disappointment he's had, but there, everybody can't win, that's what I say, and what I
