“Oh no, really!” cried Dr. Curtis. “It’s a little too much.”
“Have you ever come across a book called Compendium Maleficorum?”
“I have not. Why?”
“I don’t mind betting Lady Wutherwood’s got a copy.”
“You think she’s been mucking about with some sort of occultism and gone so far that she actually has hallucinations or illusions.”
“Is it so very unusual among women of her age, restless by temperament, to become hag-ridden by the bogus-occult?”
“You come across some funny things,” said Fox, “in these fortune-telling cases. I suppose you might say this is only going a step further.”
“That’s it, Br’er Fox. If it’s genuine.”
“You surely don’t believe—” began Dr. Kantripp.
“Of course not. I mean, if Lady Wutherwood’s apparent condition is genuine, she’s just another gullible woman with a taste for the occult. But is her condition genuine?” Alleyn looked at Dr. Kantripp. “What do you say?”
“I should like to see more of her and hear more of her history before venturing on an opinion,” said Dr. Kantripp uneasily.
“And also,” murmured Alleyn, “you would like, I fancy, to consult with the family.”
“My dear Alleyn!”
“I’m not trying to be offensive. Please don’t think that. But as well as being the Lampreys’ family doctor you are, aren’t you, personally rather attached to them?”
“I think everybody who gets involved with the Lampreys ends by falling for them,” said Dr. Kantripp. “They’ve got something. Charm, I suppose. You’ll fall for it yourself if you see much of them.”
“Shall I?” asked Alleyn vaguely. “That conjures up a lamentable picture, doesn’t it? The investigating officer who fell to doting on his suspects. Now, look here. You are two eminent medical gents. I should be extremely grateful for your opinion on the lady who has just made such a very dramatic exit. Without prejudice and all that which way would you bet? Was the lady shamming or was she not? Come now, it won’t be used against you. Give me a snap judgment, do.”
“Well,” said Dr. Curtis, “on sight I — it’s completely unorthodox to say so, of course, — but on sight and signs I incline to think she was not shamming. There was no change in her eye. The characteristic look persisted. And when you turned away there were no sharp glances to see how you were taking it. If she was shamming it was a well-sustained effort.”
“I thought so,” said Alleyn. “There was no ‘See how mad I am’ stuff. And there was, didn’t you think, that uncanny thread of logic that one finds in the mentally unsound? But of course she may be as eccentric as a rabbit on skates and not come within the meaning of the act. ‘It is quite impossible,’as Mr. Taylor says, ‘to define the term “insanity” with any precision.’ ”
“In this case,” said Kantripp, “you needn’t try. It doesn’t arise.”
“If,” said Fox in his stolid way, “she’d killed her husband?”
“Yes,” agreed Alleyn, “if she had done that?”
Dr. Kantripp put his hands in his trousers pockets, took them out again, and walked restlessly round the room.
“If she had done that,” Alleyn repeated, “the question of her sanity or degree of insanity would be of the very first importance.”
“Yes, yes, that’s obvious. As a matter of fact I understand that she has paid visits to some sort of nursing-home. You can find out where and what it is, no doubt. Frid seemed to suggest there had been a bit of mental trouble at some time but — see here, Alleyn, do you suspect her of murder? Have you any reason to suppose there’s a motive?”
“No more reason, perhaps, than I have for suspecting motive with the Lampreys.”
“But, damn it all,” Dr. Kantripp burst out, “you can’t possibly think any one of those delightful lunatics is capable — To my mind it’s absolutely grotesque to imagine for one moment — I mean, look at them.”
“Look at the field, if it comes to that,” said Alleyn. “The Lampreys, Lady Katherine Lobe, Lady Wutherwood—”
“And the servants.”
“And the servants. The nurse, the butler, the cook, and the housemaids belonging to this flat; and the chauffeur and lady’s maid belonging to the Wutherwoods. Oh, and a bailiff’s man at present in possession here.”
“Good Lord!”
“Yes. I expect when Messrs. Lane & Eagle learn in the morning’s paper that Lord Charles has come in for the peerage, they will slacken the pressure. But in the meantime there is Mr. Grimball, the bum-baliff, to be added to the list of possibles. A fanciful speculation might suggest that Mr. Grimball fell for the Lamprey charm and, moved by remorse and distaste for his job, altruistically decided to murder Lord Wutherwood; or, if you like, that Mr. Grimball dispatched Lord Wutherwood as an indirect but certain method of collecting the debt.”
“I’d believe that,” said Dr. Kantripp rather defiantly, “before I’d believe one of the Lampreys did it.”
“How would you describe the Lampreys?” asked Alleyn abruptly.
“You’ve met them.”
“I know. But to some one who hadn’t met them. Suppose you had to find a string of appropriate adjectives for the Lampreys, what would they be? Charming, of course. What else?”
“What the devil does it matter how I describe them?”
“I should like to hear, however.”
“Good Lord! Well, amusing, and ah — well ah—”
“Upright?” suggested Alleyn. “Businesslike? Scrupulous? Reliable? Any of those jump to the mind?”
“They’re kind,” said Dr. Kantripp, turning rather red. ”They’re extremely good-natured. They wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Never do anybody any sort of injury?”
“Never wittingly, I am sure.”
“Scrupulous over money matters?”
“Very generous. Look here, Alleyn, I know what you’re driving at but it’s no good. They may be in a hole. They may be a bit vague about accounts and expenses and what not. I don’t say they’re not. Since we’re being so amazingly unprofessional, I don’t mind confessing I wish they did tidy up their bills a bit more regularly. The whole thing is that while they’ve got money they blue it and when they haven’t they can’t haul in their sails. But it’s only because they’re vague. It never occurs to them that other people don’t live in the same way. They don’t really think that money is of any importance. They would never in this world do anything desperate to get money. They couldn’t. It’s the way they are bred, I suppose.”
“Oh, no,” said Alleyn. “I don’t agree with that. Business consciences aren’t entirely bounded by the little fences of class, are they? However, that is beside the point.”
“Well, look here,” said Dr. Kantripp hastily, “I really must run along. Curtis has got my address if you should want me. I asked Lady Wutherwood about her own doctor and she said she hadn’t one. Hadn’t had a consultation for three years. I’ve got his man, if it’s relevant. Cairnstock, the brain man we called in, you know, has left a report. He couldn’t wait to see you, but Mr. Fox was here.”
“Yes, Fox got the report.”
“Right. Well, good-bye, Alleyn.” Dr. Kantripp offered his hand. “I — ah — I hope you’ll find — ah—”
“Somebody,” suggested Alleyn with a faint twinkle, “that nobody is at all fond of?”
“Oh well, dammit, it’s a nasty business, isn’t it?” said Dr. Kantripp, who presented the agreeable paradox of a man in a tearing hurry unable to take his departure when there was nothing to stop him. “She’ll do all right. Lady W., I mean. I’ve given her a sedative and so on.” He went to the door and executed a little shuffle. “Ah — Curtis will tell you we noticed — ah — a slight condition of the — ah — the eyes.”