Syme’s voice took on a soothing tone. ‘I’ll treat him gently, I promise. I just want to get an impression of him for now. I’ll tell him I’m new to the district, picked up his case and I’d like to go over it with him. You may be right about him not being political, it may not even be necessary to raise that directly. We just want to tie up a loose end.’
Wilson shook his head. ‘It’s not usual to have someone like Dr Muncaster, a graduate, on a common ward. We’d move him to the Private Villa if we could sort his money out. He’s my responsibility. I want to sit in on the interview.’
Syme shook his head. ‘That won’t be possible, sir. I promise you, I’ll try not to upset him. Just a bit of questioning.’ He added, ‘If you’re not happy, you can always phone London.’
Wilson set his lips tight, but did not reply. Syme, Gunther thought, was doing well. Like most people, Wilson was frightened of getting into trouble with the Home Office.
There was a knock at the door, and a middle-aged attendant entered. He held the arm of a thin man with a closely shaved head, in a baggy grey hospital uniform. Apart from his protuberant ears, Muncaster’s face, with its large eyes and full mouth, might have been handsome were he not so obviously consumed with fear as he stared between Wilson, Gunther and Syme. Syme stood up and smiled reassuringly. ‘Frank,’ Dr Wilson said gently. ‘These men are from the police. Inspector Syme here has taken over the case of your brother.’
Muncaster jerked back. The attendant grasped his arm more firmly. ‘Easy, Muncaster, easy.’ He guided him to a chair and sat him down.
Dr Wilson went on, ‘We’re going to leave you with these officers for a few minutes, Frank. It’s all right, they just want to ask a few questions.’ He looked at the attendant. ‘Wait outside, Edwards.’ With a last sharp look at Syme, Wilson left the room, the attendant following.
Muncaster sat on his chair, gripping its wooden arms hard, chest rising and falling rapidly. It was, Gunther thought, as though he were in Gestapo headquarters already. He noticed Muncaster’s right hand was deformed. He nodded to him, and Muncaster smiled back, a horrible grimace. Syme took a notebook from his pocket, looked at it, then said in a disarming, friendly tone, ‘Like the doctor said, I’ve just been transferred up here from London and I’ve taken over the case of your brother’s fall. I see he didn’t want to prosecute. But the files are still open, you see. I just want to go over a few things. It was quite a serious assault, Frank, wasn’t it? Is it all right if I call you Frank?’
Muncaster nodded. ‘I – I know it was serious, but it was an accident really.’ Gunther noticed that the large brown eyes were watchful; there was something more than fear, something calculating in them as he looked between Gunther and Syme.
‘Well, it’s down as an assault, you see. You did push him out of that window. If you were charged it could mean prison. We don’t want that, of course,’ Syme added reassuringly, then he smiled. ‘Now if he provoked you, that would be a defence. We might even decide not to bring the case.’ Syme had folded one leg over the other and was jiggling his foot. Gunther wished he could keep still.
‘Come on now,’ Syme said. ‘Tell us what happened that night. I know you weren’t in any condition to give a proper statement then but you’re better now, eh?’
Muncaster looked at the floor. ‘Our mother died,’ he said quietly. ‘Edgar came over for the funeral. He and I never got on very well and Edgar – he was, well, hitting the bottle. We had a row, he started it, and I pushed him. He stumbled and went through the window. It was an accident. He was drunk, he couldn’t keep his balance, the window frame was rotten.’
It’s like a recital, Gunther thought.
Syme leaned forward. ‘But what did your brother do to make you lose your rag with him? Must’ve been something serious, you don’t look an aggressive chap and you’ve no police record, I know that.’
‘It was a family matter,’ Muncaster answered quickly. ‘Personal.’ He gave that strange grin again.
Syme looked at his notebook. ‘Your brother lives in California, doesn’t he? Ever been there to see him?’
‘No.’ Muncaster glanced down at his bad hand.
‘What happened there, with your hand?’ Syme asked.
‘It was an accident, at school. I fell onto the spikes of my running shoes.’ He looked away as he spoke and Gunther thought, that’s a lie.
Syme said, ‘Do you think it’s because you don’t get on that your brother won’t reply to Dr Wilson? I hear he can’t get hold of him. Maybe it’s because he knows he provoked you?’
Muncaster picked up the point eagerly. ‘Yes, yes, I think that must be it.’
‘I understand your brother’s a scientist, like you.’
Muncaster clenched his good hand into a fist. ‘No. He’s not like me.’
‘A physics professor. That sounds impressive. Not that I know anything about it.’
‘I don’t know what Edgar does,’ Muncaster said quickly. ‘I hadn’t seen him for years till Mother died.’
Syme pressed him. ‘I would’ve thought you spoke about your work, two scientists.’
‘I’m only a research associate.’ That strange grin again. ‘He didn’t think I was worth talking to.’
Syme considered Frank’s reply, then looked at Gunther. ‘It seems there must have been an element of provocation here, Sergeant.’
‘Yes,’ Gunther agreed. He saw hope flash in Muncaster’s eyes. He had seen that look often during interrogations; desperate people would jump at any prospect you held out that they might not, after all, be prosecuted. He felt sorry for this pathetic little man, as he had for the family in Berlin who’d sheltered those Jews. He asked Syme, careful to make his accent imperceptible, ‘Will Mr Muncaster be released if he is cured?’
‘Perhaps.’ Syme looked at Muncaster. ‘What would you do if you were let out, Frank?’
Muncaster shrugged his thin shoulders. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know if they’d have me back at the university.’
‘Any other family, anyone who could take you in?’
‘No.’ There was a momentary hesitation, then Muncaster said, ‘I don’t know if anything can be done for me.’
‘Well, we’ll have to have another look at this case. You’ll be staying here for now,’ Syme said casually. ‘With so much trouble in the world, all this industrial unrest and everything, you’re probably better off in here, eh?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Apparently, after what happened with your brother, you were shouting about the end of the world. So your police file says.’
‘I can’t remember what I said.’ Muncaster’s large eyes narrowed. Syme glanced at Gunther, who nodded, and the two of them stood up. Syme said, sympathetically, ‘Well, I can see you’ve been having a bad time.’ He looked at Gunther. ‘I think we should get on, Sergeant. We’ve put this poor man under enough strain.’ Gunther nodded agreement. He turned back to Muncaster. ‘We might want to talk to you again, but don’t worry, it’ll all get sorted out.’
Syme went to the door and called the attendant. He waited as Muncaster was taken away. Then in the doorway Frank turned and met Gunther’s gaze for a second. Again Gunther noted how watchful his look was; as though someone intelligent and calculating was looking out through the crippling fear. The attendant said Dr Wilson would be back shortly. Gunther sat in the chair, thinking.
‘Seen enough?’ Syme asked.
‘Enough to see that man was hiding something.’
‘I thought so, too. But he doesn’t look like he’s got it in him to be anything to do with the Resistance. Wilson was right there, he acted like he’d be afraid of his own shadow.’