‘So we’re told, sir, so we’re told.’
‘The boy was certainly a sufferer from periodic attacks of asthma. His mother told me so. I think that was why they tolerated his unsociable behaviour. I am sure that they were most solicitous about his health. He did disobey his father and indulge in secret bathing, of course, which might have upset him in some way, but there is a school of thought which says that nothing but good can come from sea-bathing. Now that I am back in London, I rather regret not having swum from the beach myself. I did take the plunge at Brill’s, as I believe I told you.’
‘You did, sir. There was something else you told me, another thing that Mrs. Prothero mentioned to you, I believe, and I want to ask you once again if you’re quite sure about it.’
‘Certainly, Sergeant. It must be something important if you have come here to verify it.’
‘Could be very important, sir. When you made your first state- ment in Brighton you told me the period of time the Protheros were proposing to spend there. D’you remember, sir?’
‘Indeed I do. Zena told me when we first met. She said they had escaped from the practice at Dorking for three weeks. I distinctly remember remarking that I was planning to stay for the same length of time. Our holidays did not quite coincide, however, as they had already spent a week in Brighton before I arrived.’
‘Three weeks,’ said Cribb. ‘Yet the doctor and the boy stayed for four.’
‘Come to think of it, they must have. They were still in Brighton during my third week. What a singular thing. Perhaps the tragic passing of their servant delayed them. There are things one is obliged to attend to on occasions like that.’
Cribb shook his head. ‘Everything could have been settled in a week, yet they stayed for fifteen days after Bridget’s death. My investigation was going on all the while. Seems unlikely they were having such a jolly time that they couldn’t bear to leave.’
‘A week would represent a sizeable sacrifice of income for a doctor in practice,’ said Moscrop.
‘Good point. And so far as we know, the locum was standing in for three weeks, not four. But for some reason the doctor and his son extended their holiday by another week. When they did leave, it was a full two weeks after Mrs. Prothero and Jason. Important things must have kept them in Brighton.’
‘But, Sergeant, I was observing Dr. Prothero almost without interruption. His daily routine continued unchanged, except for the day when he met his wife at the Dyke. The fourth week was a repetition of the others. There was no social function that he attended and the only appointments he had were with Miss Floyd-Whittingham.’
‘She wasn’t his reason for staying,’ said Cribb, more to himself than Moscrop. ‘He had more important things on his mind-principally Guy. The boy was liable to be arrested any time. Yet they stayed for another week, and Prothero did nothing and saw no one except his lady-friend. That’s hard to account for. Then, at the end of the week, the boy conveniently died. Not at Dorking, you notice; that would open all sorts of sinister possibilities. At a hotel they’d never visited before, in the presence of an independent witness. “Asthma” on the death certificate and Dr. Prothero’s problems were neatly solved. The question I have to answer-if I choose to feel suspicious, that is-is why it didn’t happen a week before. And I think I’ll take my question to Harley Street.’
Thackeray jerked up from his notes. ‘Harley Street, Sarge?’
‘That’s our next call, Thackeray. I’ve made an appointment with one of London’s foremost specialists in asthma. We’re grateful for your help, Mr. Moscrop. If ever the Yard decides to equip its officers with telescopes, I’ll put a word in, depend upon it.’
His mind reeling with the implications of what Cribb had said, Moscrop escorted the detectives through the shop to their cab.
The inquest on the late Guy Prothero the following week established that he died from natural causes. The medical evidence, the coroner pointed out, could lead to no other conclusion than that the boy was the victim of a chronic attack of asthma.
‘You wouldn’t object if I walked with you to the station?’ said Cribb to Dr. Prothero, as they came down the court steps together. ‘I presume you’re going back to Dorking.’
‘I am, as it happens,’ said Prothero, without much warmth. ‘By all means let us go that way together.’ He set off at a rate suggesting he had no intention of prolonging the conversation.
‘I’ll be getting the same train,’ said Cribb airily. ‘I go to London, though. The next one should be the 4.23 if Bradshaw can be relied upon.’
Prothero put his hand to his watch-chain, but Cribb added, ‘There’s no need to check. There’s a jeweller’s opposite with a clock outside. D’you see? We’ve three-quarters of an hour in hand. Time for a good yarn, eh, Doctor?’
The prospect seemed to have a discouraging effect on Prothero, so Cribb went on, ‘You’ll be satisfied with the verdict, I dare say. It quite upheld your own opinion. Disposed of any doubts entertained by certain persons, eh? I should have known better than to question the opinion of a recognised authority, but, there, I’m trained to be a sceptic. Now that I’ve read your papers on the subject, I’m somewhat better informed.’
‘You have read my monographs?’ said Prothero, in surprise.
‘Every one, Doctor. There’s a very good library at the Royal College of Physicians. I ain’t a member, but the Yard has certain connections with the profession, you know, and I can usually obtain what I want by mentioning a word in the right quarter. You make a regular splash in the index, having written so much. No trouble at all finding your writings. Very readable they are, too.’
‘Thank you, but I had no idea-‘
‘That I was so interested? Insatiable curiosity, Doctor. It’s a kind of habit. If I meet a man I like to know all about him. Not that I was reading your papers only, you understand. I had nearly a week in that library. Shall we cross? Devil of a lot of traffic. Market day, would you say?’
‘Medicine must interest you,’ Prothero observed, when they had safely negotiated the road.
‘I find it irresistible,’ said Cribb. ‘When there’s a problem to solve, that is. Take the case of your son’s unfortunate death, for instance. Now the inquest’s over and everything’s settled, you might be surprised I should ever have harboured any uncertainty about the circumstances of his-er-going.’
‘Oh, I can understand that any sudden death must be accounted for,’ said Prothero, generously.
‘We know that he murdered your servant Bridget,’ Cribb said, as if he were talking about the weather. ‘Probably strangled her, although we never found enough of her to tell for certain. It was strangling that nearly killed Jane Brett, the servant girl at the Eastbourne school, wasn’t it? It must have been a regular nightmare to you and your wife. No wonder your memory of things was a little awry-when you said that Bridget went back to Dorking with your wife on the morning after the murder, for example. No, don’t look alarmed, Doctor. If I were leading up to anything incriminating, I’d have a man with me and a pair of handcuffs in my pocket. It’s your son I should have charged, and I left it too damned late. I’ve more important things to do than go over evidence looking for false statements. In a way, the boy’s death closed the account for me. No further danger to the public, you see. I say, that looks a fetching plate of doughnuts. D’you fancy a pot of afternoon tea? We’ve time, you know. There’s the station, not fifty yards away.’
Prothero acquiesced and presently found himself incarcerated in a bow-fronted tea-shop, watching Sergeant Cribb devour doughnuts as if he had not eaten for a week. Possibly the facilities at the Royal College had not included lunch.
‘What was the object of your researches?’ the doctor asked, steering the conversation in a more general direction.
Cribb bolted the rest of his third doughnut, raising a finger meanwhile to indicate the imminence of a response. ‘I’m glad you asked me that. They were quite misdirected. I’m a stubborn cove, Doctor. Should have sought the advice of some authority such as yourself. Would have saved me several days’ hard work. You see, I had it in my mind that Guy’s death was-er-induced. It was just too neat to be believable. Record of asthma, inherited from his mother. Sudden attack, following a stiff ride on a horse and a heavy meal, both known to affect asthmatics. Symptoms observed by an independent witness. Post mortem evidence irrefutable.’