The Magician Part 29

'Yes, sir. Mr Haddo had called him in several times to see his lady.'

'Where does Dr Richardson live?'

'Why, sir, he lives at the white house near the station.'

She could not make out why Arthur asked these questions.

'Did Mr Haddo go to the funeral?'

'Oh yes, sir. I've never seen anyone so upset.'

'That'll do. You can go.'

Susie poured out the tea and handed a cup to Arthur. To her surprise, he drank the tea and ate some bread and b.u.t.ter. She could not understand him. The expression of strain, and the restlessness which had been so painful, were both gone from his face, and it was set now to a look of grim determination. At last he spoke to them.

'I'm going to see this doctor. Margaret's heart was as sound as mine.'

'What are you going to do?'

'Do?'

He turned on her with a peculiar fierceness.

'I'm going to put a rope round that man's neck, and if the law won't help me, by G.o.d, I'll kill him myself.'

'_Mais, mon ami, vous etes fou_,' cried Dr Porhoet, springing up.

Arthur put out his hand angrily, as though to keep him back. The frown on his face grew darker.

'You _must_ leave me alone. Good Heavens, the time has gone by for tears and lamentation. After all I've gone through for months, I can't weep because Margaret is dead. My heart is dried up. But I know that she didn't die naturally, and I'll never rest so long as that fellow lives.'

He stretched out his hands and with clenched jaws prayed that one day he might hold the man's neck between them, and see his face turn livid and purple as he died.

'I am going to this fool of a doctor, and then I shall go to Skene.'

'You must let us come with you,' said Susie.

'You need not be frightened,' he answered. 'I shall not take any steps of my own till I find the law is powerless.'

'I want to come with you all the same.'

'As you like.'

Susie went out and ordered a trap to be got ready. But since Arthur would not wait, she arranged that it should be sent for them to the doctor's door. They went there at once, on foot.

Dr Richardson was a little man of five-and-fifty, with a fair beard that was now nearly white, and prominent blue eyes. He spoke with a broad Staffords.h.i.+re accent. There was in him something of the farmer, something of the well-to-do tradesman, and at the first glance his intelligence did not impress one.

Arthur was shewn with his two friends into the consulting-room, and after a short interval the doctor came in. He was dressed in flannels and had an old-fas.h.i.+oned racket in his hand.

'I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, but Mrs Richardson has got a few lady-friends to tea, and I was just in the middle of a set.'

His effusiveness jarred upon Arthur, whose manner by contrast became more than usually abrupt.

'I have just learnt of the death of Mrs Haddo. I was her guardian and her oldest friend. I came to you in the hope that you would be able to tell me something about it.'

Dr Richardson gave him at once, the suspicious glance of a stupid man.

'I don't know why you come to me instead of to her husband. He will be able to tell you all that you wish to know.'

'I came to you as a fellow-pract.i.tioner,' answered Arthur. 'I am at St Luke's Hospital.' He pointed to his card, which Dr Richardson still held.

'And my friend is Dr Porhoet, whose name will be familiar to you with respect to his studies in Malta Fever.'

'I think I read an article of yours in the _B.M.J._' said the country doctor.

His manner a.s.sumed a singular hostility. He had no sympathy with London specialists, whose att.i.tude towards the general pract.i.tioner he resented.

He was pleased to sneer at their pretensions to omniscience, and quite willing to pit himself against them.

'What can I do for you, Mr Burdon?'

'I should be very much obliged if you would tell me as exactly as possible how Mrs Haddo died.'

'It was a very simple case of endocarditis.'

'May I ask how long before death you were called in?'

The doctor hesitated. He reddened a little.

'I'm not inclined to be cross-examined,' he burst out, suddenly making up his mind to be angry. 'As a surgeon I daresay your knowledge of cardiac diseases is neither extensive nor peculiar. But this was a very simple case, and everything was done that was possible. I don't think there's anything I can tell you.'

Arthur took no notice of the outburst.

'How many times did you see her?'

'Really, sir, I don't understand your att.i.tude. I can't see that you have any right to question me.'

'Did you have a post-mortem?'

'Certainly not. In the first place there was no need, as the cause of death was perfectly clear, and secondly you must know as well as I do that the relatives are very averse to anything of the sort. You gentlemen in Harley Street don't understand the conditions of private practice. We haven't the time to do post-mortems to gratify a needless curiosity.'

Arthur was silent for a moment. The little man was evidently convinced that there was nothing odd about Margaret's death, but his foolishness was as great as his obstinacy. It was clear that several motives would induce him to put every obstacle in Arthur's way, and chief of these was the harm it would do him if it were discovered that he had given a certificate of death carelessly. He would naturally do anything to avoid social scandal. Still Arthur was obliged to speak.

'I think I'd better tell you frankly that I'm not satisfied, Dr Richardson. I can't persuade myself that this lady's death was due to natural causes.'

'Stuff and nonsense!' cried the other angrily. 'I've been in practice for hard upon thirty-five years, and I'm willing to stake my professional reputation on it.'

'I have reason to think you are mistaken.'

'And to what do you ascribe death, pray?' asked the doctor.