be hearing I'm raising the local spirits and
emulating the witch of Endor."
"Rather odd you should say that." 'Why?"
"Well, the rumor has been going round
that you had raised the ghost of Tommy
Pierce."
"Pierce? Pierce? Is that the small boy who
fell out of a window?"
"Yes."
"Now, I wonder how--Of course. I made
some remark to the solicitor--what's his
name?--Abbot."
"Yes, the story originated with Abbot."
"Don't say I've converted a hardheaded
solicitor to a belief in ghosts?"
"You believe in ghosts yourself, then?"
"Your tone suggests that you do not. Doctor.
No, I wouldn't say I actually 'believe in
ghosts'--to put it crudely. But I have known
curious phenomena in the case of sudden or
violent death. But I'm more interested in the
various superstitions pertaining to violent
deaths--that a murdered man, for instance, can't rest in his grave. And the interesting
belief that the blood of a murdered man
flows if his murderer touches him. I wonder
how that arose."
"Very curious," said Thomas. "But I don't
suppose many people remember that nowadays."
"More than you would think. Of course, I
don't suppose you have many murders down
here, so it's hard to judge."
Luke had smiled as he spoke, his eyes
resting with seeming carelessness on the other's
face. But Doctor Thomas seemed quite
unperturbed and smiled in return.
"No, I don't think we've had a murder
for--oh, very many years--certainly not in
my time!"
"No, this is a peaceful spot. Not conducive
to foul play. Unless somebody pushed
little Tommy What's-His-Name out of the window."
Luke laughed. Again Doctor Thomas'
smile came in answer--a natural smile full of
boyish amusement. "A lot of people would
have been willing to wring that child's neck,"
he said, "but I don't think they actually got
to the point of throwing him out of
windows."
"He seems to have been a thoroughly nasty
child; the removal of him might have been
conceived as a public duty."
"It's a pity one can't apply that theory
fairly often."
"I've always thought a few wholesale murders
would be beneficial to the community,"
said Luke. "I haven't the 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 daugh-
ter. 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-by. "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."
&nb
sp; 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.
fte had the pleasure of seeing Doctor
Thomas5 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 Frankfort 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
grownup amused by the cleverness of a child.
Nine
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 say is you can't go against
luck.55
Luke concurred heartily in these sentiments, and proceeded to advance by an easy
transition to a further profound statement
that troubles never come singly.
"Ah, no, indeed, sir; that I do know."
Mrs. Pierce sighed. "And when a woman
has a husband and eight children--six living, and buried two, that is--well, she knows
what trouble is, as you may say."
"I suppose she does. Oh, undoubtedly," said Luke. "You've--er--buried two, you
say?"
"One no longer than a month ago," said
Mrs. Pierce, with a kind of melancholy enjoyment.
"Dear me, very sad."
"It wasn't only sad, sir. It was a shock, that's what it was--a shock! I came all over
queer, I did, when they broke it to me.
Never having expected anything of that kind
to happen to Tommy, as you might say, for
when a boy's trouble to you, it doesn't come
natural to think of him being took. Now my
Emma Jane, a sweet little mite she was. 'You'll never rear her.' That's what they said. 'She's too good to live.' And it was true, sir.
The Lord knows his own."
92
Luke acknowledged the sentiment and
strove to return from the subject of the saintly
Emma Jane to that of the less saintly Tommy.
"Your boy died quite recently?" he asked.
"An accident?"
"An accident it was, sir. Cleaning the windows
of the old hall, which is now the library, and he must have lost his balance and
fell--from the top windows, that was."
Mrs. Pierce expatiated at some length on
all the details of the accident.
"Wasn't there some story," said Luke
carelessly, "of his having been seen dancing
on the window sill?" Mrs. Pierce said that
boys would be boys, but no doubt it did give
the Major a turn, him being a fussy gentleman.
"Major Horton?"
"Yes, sir, the gentleman with the bulldogs.
After the accident happened, he
chanced to mention having seen our Tommy
acting very rashlike--and, of course, it does
show that if something sudden had startled
him, he would have fallen easy enough. High spirits, sir, that was Tommy's trouble. A
sore trial he's been to me in many ways,"
she finished, "but there it was just high
spirits--nothing but high spirits, such as any
9^
lad might have. There wasn't no real harm
in him, as you might say."
"No, no, I'm sure there wasn't but sometimes, you know, Mrs. Pierce, people--sober
middle-aged people--find it hard to
remember they've ever been young themselves."
Mrs. Pierce sighed. "Very true those words
are, sir. I can't help but hope that some
gentlemen I could name, but won't, will have
taken it to heart, the way they were hard
upon the lad just on account of his high
spirits."
"Played a few tricks upon his employers, did he?" asked Luke, with an indulgent
smile.
Mrs. Pierce responded immediately, "It
was just his fun, sir, that was all. Tommy
was always good at imitations. Make us hold
our sides with laughing, the way he'd pretend
to be that Mr. Ellsworthy at the curio
shop, or old Mr. Hobbs, the churchwarden, and he was imitating his lordship up at the
Manor, and the two undergardeners laughing, when up came his lordship quiet like
and gave Tommy the sack on the spot; and, naturally, that was only to be expected and
quite right, and his lordship didn't bear mal
ice afterwards, and helped Tommy to get another job."
"But other people weren't so magnanimous, eh?" said Luke.
"That they were n
ot, sir. Naming no
names. And you'd never think it, with Mr.
Abbot so pleasant in his manner and always
a kind word or a joke."
"Tommy got into trouble with him?"
Mrs. Pierce said, "It's not, I'm sure, that
the boy meant any harm. And after all, if
papers are private and not meant to be looked
at, they shouldn't be laid out on a table--
that's what I say."
"Oh, quite," said Luke. "Private papers
in a lawyer's office ought to be kept in the
safe."
"That's right, sir. That's what I think, and Mr. Pierce, he agrees with me. It's not
even as though Tommy had read much of
it."
"What was it--a will?" asked Luke. He
judged--probably rightly--that a question as
to what the document in question had been
might make Mrs. Pierce halt. But this direct
question brought an instant response.
"Oh, no, sir; nothing of that kind. Nothing
really important. Just a private letter it
was--from a lady--and Tommy didn't even
see who the lady was. All such a fuss about
nothing--that's what I say."
"Mr. Abbot must be the sort of man who
takes offense very easily," said Luke.
"Well, it does seem so, doesn't it, sir?
Although, as I say, he's always such a pleasant
gentleman to speak to--always a joke or
a cheery word. But it's true that I have
heard he was a difficult man to get up against, and him and Doctor Humbleby was daggers
drawn, as the saying is, just before the poor
gentleman died. And not a pleasant thought
for Mr. Abbot afterwards. For, once there's
a death, one doesn't like to think there's
been harsh words spoken and no chance of
taking them back."
Luke shook his head solemnly and murmured, "Very true--very true." He went
on, "A bit of a coincidence, that. Hard words
with Doctor Humbleby, and Doctor
Humbleby died; harsh treatment of your
Tommy, and the boy dies. I should think
that a double experience like that would tend
to make Mr. Abbot careful of his tongue in
future."
"Harry Carter, too, down at the Seven
Stars," said Mrs. Pierce. "Very sharp words passed between them only a week before
Carter went and drowned himself, but one
can't blame Mr. Abbot for that. The abuse
was all on Carter's side. Went up to Mr.
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