the same old game. Going round to people’s houses asking for fags and cursing if he doesn’t get them. This time it’s Colonel Exbury. It seems that he went round there and that the colonel had the devil of a job to get rid of him. He’s not a bit pleased and wants to know what we mean to do about it.’
‘I can’t make Alfie out,’ said Linton, scratching his head. ‘He’ll do a day’s job with anybody in the town when he feels like it. And then all of a sudden he’ll take it into his head to go round annoying folk. And it isn’t that he gets drunk, for I’ve never heard of anybody who’s seen him the worse for liquor.’
‘He’s not right, that’s what it is,’ replied the sergeant confidently. ‘I don’t mean that he’s out and out mad, but he comes over all batty now and then. I wonder, now!’
Again the sergeant mopped his face with that enormous pocket handkerchief. ‘Damn this heat!’ he exclaimed. ‘It’s enough to drive anyone batty. What I was wondering is whether the folk at the asylum could do Alfie any good if he went in there for a bit.’
Linton shook his head. ‘He’d never go, not unless he was forced to,’ he replied. ‘As it is he’ll never sleep within four walls if he can help it.’
‘I know. That’s just the difficulty. Still, something might be done if we went the right way about it. I tell you what, Dr Thornborough would help us. He’d never mind being asked to do a thing like that.’
‘Like what?’ Linton asked.
‘I’m coming to that. It’s not a bit of good our bringing Alfie before the Bench, for you know as well as I do what would happen. They’d fine him with the option. Alfie’s mother would pay the fine and we shouldn’t be any further forward than we were before. He’d go on pestering folk and giving us a lot of trouble.’
‘We’ll have to do something. It wouldn’t do to upset the colonel.’
‘That’s just it. Now if we could get Alfie put away for a bit it wouldn’t do any harm and might do a lot of good. And that’s just where Dr Thornborough comes in.’
The sergeant glanced at the clock as he continued. ‘It’s just a quarter to one now; the doctor always gets home for lunch round about one o’clock. Jump on your bike and slip up to his place in Gunthorpe Road. I never can pronounce the name of it. Tell him what we think about Alfie and ask him if he can manage to have a quiet chat with him. And then if he thinks that Alfie ought to be put away we’ll know what to do about it.’
This conversation took place on Saturday, June 12. Linton mounted his bicycle and rode through the little town until he reached Gunthorpe Road on its outskirts. He passed the public gardens and museum on his right, and a single small detached house on his left. Thus he reached a new and substantial-looking house which bore upon its drive gates the unusual name Epidaurus.
The gates were open and Linton turned in at the first he came to. He dismounted, left his bicycle at the end of the short semi-circular drive, and walked to the front door. It was opened by a smart and capable-looking parlourmaid who smiled as she recognised him. ‘Good-morning, Mr Linton,’ she said primly.
‘Good-morning, miss,’ Linton replied with official gravity. ‘I was wondering if I could speak to the doctor for a moment.’
‘He’s not back from his rounds yet, though he’s sure to be in before long. Mrs Thornborough is in, if you’d like to see her?’
‘I’d rather wait and see the doctor, if there’s no objection.’
The parlourmaid stood aside to let him enter and, as she did so a young and remarkably pretty woman appeared in the hall. ‘Hullo, Linton,’ she exclaimed. ‘What’s your business? Anything I can do for you?’
‘Thank you, mam,’ Linton replied. ‘But I’ve got a message from the sergeant for the doctor.’
‘Then you’d better wait for him in the consulting-room. Take Linton in there, will you, Lucy, and see that he has a glass of beer while he’s waiting.’
The parlourmaid showed Linton into the consulting-room and a few moments later appeared with a glass and a jug on a tray. ‘Can’t stop and share it with you, as I’m busy,’ she said as she frisked out again. In her haste she omitted to shut the door properly and it remained slightly ajar.
The consulting-room lay at the back of the house, and its window, which was open, commanded a view of the kitchen garden and of the garage at the end of it. Linton noticed that the garage was empty and that its doors were propped back. He poured himself out a glass of beer, sampled it and then sat down.
The door being ajar he could hear sounds of activity within the house. From the dining-room came a subdued clatter of plates and cutlery. Lucy was obviously laying the table for lunch. The kitchen premises were divided from the rest of the house by a baize door, impervious to sound or smell. The notes of a piano, strummed softly but ably, reached Linton from the drawing-room. And then as he took a second draught of beer the soft purr of an approaching car reached his ears. That must be the doctor, of course.
The car entered the drive and stopped outside the front door. Linton wiped his lips and stood up ready to greet Dr Thornborough. But, contrary to his expectations, he did not hear the front door open. An instant later, an electric bell rang insistently somewhere in the back premises.
The clattering in the dining-room came to an immediate stop. Linton heard Lucy hasten with tripping steps to the front door and open it. Next a deep voice which Linton did not recognise, and a heavy step in the hall. A visitor, obviously. Whoever it was, Lucy must have shown him into the drawing-room, for the piano stopped abruptly. Before the drawing-room door closed again, Linton heard Mrs Thornborough’s voice raised in a tone of complete amazement. It seemed, then, that the visitor must be unexpected.
A minute later Linton heard the sound of a car being driven down the carriage way beside the house towards the garage. Was it the doctor’s car this time? No, it wasn’t. As soon as it came in sight Linton saw that. It was a very smart-looking Armstrong-Siddeley limousine, driven by an elderly and rather surly-looking chauffeur. It came to rest inside the garage. The chauffeur dismounted, and walked slowly round it. Then he produced a packet of cigarettes from an inside pocket, chose one and lighted it. Having thrown away the match, he propped himself negligently against the garage door-post.
The drawing-room door opened again and a heavy footstep crossed the hall. Linton heard the sound of another door being opened. It was shut immediately and the click of a lock followed. Somebody left the drawing-room and hurried into the dining-room. This must be Mrs Thornborough, for Linton recognised her voice as she gave instructions to Lucy. Something about it being very awkward. Cook should be asked to hold back lunch for ten minutes. And of course, another place must be laid. Oh yes, and Coates. He must be asked in to have his lunch in the kitchen. Better tell cook about it at once.
Linton heard her go upstairs slowly, step by step, as though upon some errand she disliked. The baize door opened and shut as Lucy went into the kitchen to break the news to cook. From somewhere on the ground floor the faint but unmistakable sound of a plug being pulled.
Followed a silence of a couple of minutes. Then an indeterminate and not very distinct sound, something between a thud and a crash. Linton supposed that cook, flustered by the arrival of this unexpected guest, had dropped something in the kitchen. He took out his watch and looked at it. Seven minutes past one. Something must have detained the doctor, for, as Linton knew, he always tried to get home by one o’clock.
A
