Nine

DR. ROBERTS

“Good morning, Superintendent¹ Battle.”

Dr. Roberts rose from his chair and offered a large pink hand smelling of a mixture of goodsoap and faint carbolic.

“How are things going?” he went on.

Superintendent Battle glanced round the comfortable consulting room before answering.

“Well, Dr. Roberts, strictly² speaking, they’re not going. They’re standing³ still.”

“There’s been nothing much in the papers, I’ve been glad to see.”

“Sudden death of the well-known Mr. Shaitana at an evening party in his own home. It’s left atthat for the moment. We’ve had the autopsy—I brought a report of the findings along—thought itmight interest you—”

“That’s very kind of you—it would—h’m—h’m. Yes, very interesting.”

He handed it back.

“And we’ve interviewed Mr. Shaitana’s solicitor⁴. We know the terms of his will. Nothing ofinterest there. He has relatives in Syria, it seems. And then, of course, we’ve been through all hisprivate papers.”

Was it fancy or did that broad, clean-shaven countenance⁵ look a little strained—a little wooden?

“And?” said Dr. Roberts.

“Nothing,” said Superintendent Battle, watching him. There wasn’t a sigh of relief. Nothing soblatant as that. But the doctor’s figure seemed to relax just a shade more comfortably in his chair.

“And so you’ve come to me?”

“And so, as you say, I’ve come to you.”

The doctor’s eyebrows⁶ rose a little and his shrewd eyes looked into Battle’s.

“Want to go through my private papers—eh?”

“That was my idea.”

“Got a search warrant?”

“No.”

“Well; you could get one easily enough, I suppose. I’m not going to make difficulties. It’s notvery pleasant being suspected of murder but I suppose I can’t blame you for what’s obviouslyyour duty.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Superintendent Battle with real gratitude⁷. “I appreciate your attitude, if Imay say so, very much. I hope all the others will be as reasonable, I’m sure.”

“What can’t be cured must be endured,” said the doctor good-humouredly.

He went on:

“I’ve finished seeing my patients here. I’m just off on my rounds. I’ll leave you my keys andjust say a word to my secretary and you can rootle to your heart’s content.”

“That’s all very nice and pleasant, I’m sure,” said Battle. “I’d like to ask you a few morequestions before you go.”

“About the other night? Really, I told you all I know.”

“No, not about the other night. About yourself.”

“Well, man, ask away, what do you want to know?”

“I’d just like a rough sketch⁸ of your career, Dr. Roberts. Birth, marriage, and so on.”

“It will get me into practice for Who’s Who,” said the doctor dryly. “My career’s a perfectlystraightforward one. I’m a Shropshire man, born at Ludlow. My father was in practice there. Hedied when I was fifteen. I was educated at Shrewsbury and went in for medicine like my fatherbefore me. I’m a St. Christopher’s man—but you’ll have all the medical details already, I expect.”

“I looked you up, yes, sir. You an only child or have you any brothers or sisters?”

“I’m an only child. Both my parents are dead and I’m unmarried. Will that do to get on with? Icame into partnership¹⁰ here with Dr. Emery. He retired¹¹ about fifteen years ago. Lives in Ireland. I’llgive you his address if you like. I live here with a cook, a parlour maid and a housemaid. Mysecretary comes in daily. I make a good income and I only kill a reasonable number of mypatients. How’s that?”

Superintendent Battle grinned.

“That’s fairly comprehensive, Dr. Roberts. I’m glad you’ve got a sense of humour. Now I’mgoing to ask you one more thing.”

“I’m a strictly moral man, superintendent.”

“Oh, that wasn’t my meaning. No, I was going to ask you if you’d give me the names of fourfriends—people who’ve known you intimately for a number of years. Kind of references, if youknow what I mean.”

“Yes, I think so. Let me see now. You’d prefer people who are actually in London now?”

“It would make it a bit easier, but it doesn’t really matter.”

The doctor thought for a minute or two, then with his fountain pen he scribbled¹² four names andaddresses on a sheet of paper and pushed it across the desk to Battle.

“Will those do? They’re the best I can think of on the spur of the moment.”

Battle read carefully, nodded his head in satisfaction and put the sheet of paper away in an innerpocket.

“It’s just a question of elimination,” he said. “The sooner I can get one person eliminated and goonto the next, the better it is for everyone concerned. I’ve got to make perfectly⁹ certain that youweren’t on bad terms with the late Mr. Shaitana, that you had no private connections or businessdealings with him, that there was no question of his having injured you at any time and yourbearing resentment¹³. I may believe you when you say you only knew him slightly—but it isn’t aquestion of my belief. I’ve got to say I’ve made sure.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly. You’ve got to think everybody’s a liar¹⁴ till he’s proved he’sspeaking the truth. Here are my keys, superintendent. That’s the drawers of the desk—that’s thebureau—that little one’s the key of the poison cupboard. Be sure to lock it up again. Perhaps I’dbetter just have a word with my secretary.”

He pressed a button on his desk.

Almost immediately the door opened and a competent-looking young woman appeared.

“You rang, doctor?”

“This is Miss Burgess—Superintendent Battle from Scotland Yard.”

Miss Burgess turned a cool gaze on Battle. It seemed to say:

“Dear me, what sort of an animal is this?”

“I should be glad, Miss Burgess, if you will answer any questions Superintendent Battle mayput to you, and give him any help he may need.”

“Certainly, if you say so, doctor.”

“Well,” said Roberts, rising, “I’ll be off. Did you put the morphia in my case? I shall need it forthe Lockheart case.”

He bustled¹⁵ out, still talking, and Miss Burgess followed him.

“Will you press that button when you want me, Superintendent Battle?”

Superintendent Battle thanked her and said he would do so. Then he set to work.

His search was careful and methodical, though he had no great hopes of finding anything ofimportance. Roberts’ ready acquiescence¹⁶ dispelled¹⁷ the chance of that. Roberts was no fool. Hewould realize that a search would be bound to come and he would make provisions accordingly.

There was, however, a faint chance that Battle might come across a hint of the information he wasreally after, since Roberts would not know the real object of his search.

Superintendent Battle opened and shut drawers, rifled pigeonholes¹⁸, glanced through achequebook, estimated the unpaid¹⁹ bills — noted²⁰ what those same bills were for, scrutinizedRoberts’ passbook²¹, ran through his case notes and generally left no written document unturned.

The result was meagre in the extreme. He next took a look through the poison cupboard, noted thewholesale firms with which the doctor dealt, and the system of checking, relocked the cupboardand passed on to the bureau. The contents of the latter were of a more personal nature, but Battlefound nothing germane²² to his search. He shook his head, sat down in the doctor’s chair andpressed the desk button.

Miss Burgess appeared with commendable²³ promptitude.

Superintendent Battle asked her politely to be seated and then sat studying her for a moment,before he decided²⁴ which way to tackle her. He had sensed immediately her hostility²⁵ and he wasuncertain whether to provoke her into unguarded speech by increasing that hostility or whether totry a softer method of approach.

“I suppose you know what all this is about, Miss Burgess?” he said at last.

“Dr. Roberts told me,” said Miss Burgess shortly.

“The whole thing’s rather delicate,” said Superintendent Battle.

“Is it?” said Miss Burgess.

“Well, it’s rather a nasty business. Four people are under suspicion and one of them must havedone it. What I want to know is whether you’ve ever seen this Mr. Shaitana?”

“Never.”

“Ever heard Dr. Roberts speak of him?”

“Never — no, I am wrong. About a week ago Dr. Roberts told me to enter up a dinnerappointment in his engagement book. Mr. Shaitana, 8:15, on the 18th.”

“And that is the first you ever heard of this Mr. Shaitana?”

“Yes.”

“Never seen his name in the papers? He was often in the fashionable news.”

“I’ve got better things to do than reading the fashionable news.”

“I expect you have. Oh, I expect you have,” said the superintendent mildly.

“Well,” he went on. “There it is. All four of these people will only admit to knowing Mr.

Shaitana slightly. But one of them knew him well enough to kill him. It’s my job to find out whichof them it was.”

There was an unhelpful pause. Miss Burgess seemed quite uninterested in the performance ofSuperintendent Battle’s job. It was her job to obey her employer’s orders and sit here listening towhat Superintendent Battle chose to say and answer any direct questions he might choose to put toher.

“You know, Miss Burgess,” the superintendent found it uphill work but he persevered²⁶, “I doubtif you appreciate half the difficulties of our job. People say things, for instance. Well, we mayn’tbelieve a word of it, but we’ve got to take notice of it all the same. It’s particularly noticeable in acase of this kind. I don’t want to say anything against your sex but there’s no doubt that a woman,when she’s rattled²⁷, is apt to lash²⁸ out with her tongue a bit. She makes unfounded accusations²⁹, hintsthis, that and the other, and rakes up all sorts of old scandals that have probably nothing whateverto do with the case.”

“Do you mean,” demanded Miss Burgess, “that one of these other people has been saying thingsagainst the doctor?”

“Not exactly said anything,” said Battle cautiously. “But all the same, I’m bound to take notice.

Suspicious circumstances about the death of a patient. Probably all a lot of nonsense. I’m ashamedto bother the doctor with it.”

“I suppose someone’s got hold of that story about Mrs. Graves,” said Miss Burgess wrathfully.

“The way people talk about things they know nothing whatever about is disgraceful. Lots of oldladies get like that—they think everybody is poisoning them—their relations and their servantsand even their doctors. Mrs. Graves had had three doctors before she came to Dr. Roberts and thenwhen she got the same fancies about him he was quite willing for her to have Dr. Lee instead. It’sthe only thing to do in these cases, he said. And after Dr. Lee she had Dr. Steele, and then Dr.

Farmer—until she died, poor old thing.”

“You’d be surprised the way the smallest thing starts a story,” said Battle. “Whenever a doctorbenefits by the death of a patient somebody has something ill- natured to say. And yet whyshouldn’t a grateful patient leave a little something, or even a big something to her medicalattendant.”

“It’s the relations,” said Miss Burgess. “I always think there’s nothing like death for bringingout the meanness of human nature. Squabbling over who’s to have what before the body’s cold.

Luckily, Dr. Roberts has never had any trouble of that kind. He always says he hopes his patientswon’t leave him anything. I believe he once had a legacy³⁰ of fifty pounds and he’s had two walkingsticks and a gold watch, but nothing else.”

“It’s a difficult life, that of a professional man,” said Battle with a sigh. “He’s always open toblackmail. The most innocent occurrences lend themselves sometimes to a scandalous appearance.

A doctor’s got to avoid even the appearance of evil—that means he’s got to have his wits abouthim good and sharp.”

“A lot of what you say is true,” said Miss Burgess. “Doctors have a difficult time with hystericalwomen.”

“Hysterical women. That’s right. I thought in my own mind, that that was all it amounted to.”

“I suppose you mean that dreadful Mrs. Craddock?”

Battle pretended to think.

“Let me see, was it three years ago? No, more.”

“Four or five, I think. She was a most unbalanced woman! I was glad when she went abroad andso was Dr. Roberts. She told her husband the most frightful³¹ lies—they always do, of course. Poorman, he wasn’t quite himself—he’d begun to be ill. He died of anthrax, you know, an infectedshaving brush.”

“I’d forgotten that,” said Battle untruthfully.

“And then she went abroad and died not long afterwards. But I always thought she was a nastytype of woman—man-mad, you know.”

“I know the kind,” said Battle. “Very dangerous, they are. A doctor’s got to give them a wideberth. Whereabouts did she die abroad—I seem to remember.”

“Egypt, I think it was. She got blood poisoning—some native infection.”

“Another thing that must be difficult for a doctor,” said Battle, making a conversational³² leap, “iswhen he suspects that one of his patients is being poisoned by one of their relatives. What’s he todo? He’s got to be sure—or else hold his tongue. And if he’s done the latter, then it’s awkward forhim if there’s talk of foul³³ play afterwards. I wonder if any case of that kind has ever come Dr.

Roberts’ way?”

“I really don’t think it has,” said Miss Burgess, considering. “I’ve never heard of anything likethat.”

“From the statistical³⁴ point of view, it would be interesting to know how many deaths occuramong a doctor’s practice per year. For instance now, you’ve been with Dr. Roberts some years—”

“Seven.”

“Seven. Well, how many deaths have there been in that time offhand³⁵?”

“Really, it’s difficult to say.” Miss Burgess gave herself up to calculation. She was by now quitethawed and unsuspicious. “Seven, eight—of course, I can’t remember exactly—I shouldn’t saymore than thirty in the time.”

“Then I fancy Dr. Roberts must be a better doctor than most,” said Battle genially³⁶. “I suppose,too, most of his patients are upper class. They can afford to take care of themselves.”

“He’s a very popular doctor. He’s so good at diagnosis³⁷.”

Battle sighed and rose to his feet.

“I’m afraid I’ve been wandering from my duty, which is to find out a connection between thedoctor and this Mr. Shaitana. You’re quite sure he wasn’t a patient of the doctor’s?”

“Quite sure.”

“Under another name, perhaps?” Battle handed her a photograph. “Recognize him at all?”

“What a very theatrical-looking person. No, I’ve never seen him here at any time.”

“Well, that’s that.” Battle sighed. “I’m much obliged to the doctor, I’m sure, for being sopleasant about everything. Tell him from me, will you? Tell him I’m passing on to No. 2. Good-bye, Miss Burgess, and thank you for your help.”

He shook hands and departed. Walking along the street he took a small notebook from hispocket and made a couple of entries in it under the letter R.

Mrs. Graves? Unlikely.

Mrs. Craddock?

No legacies³⁸.

No wife. (Pity.)

Investigate deaths of patients. Difficult.

He closed the book and turned into the Lancaster Gate branch of the London and Wessex Bank.

The display of his official card brought him to a private interview with the manager.

“Good morning, sir. One of your clients is a Dr. Geoffrey Roberts, I understand.”

“Quite correct, superintendent.”

“I shall want some information about that gentleman’s account going back over a period ofyears.”

“I will see what I can do for you.”

A complicated half hour followed. Finally Battle, with a sigh, tucked away a sheet of pencilledfigures.

“Got what you want?” inquired the bank manager curiously³⁹.

“No, I haven’t. Not one suggestive lead. Thank you all the same.”

At that same moment, Dr. Roberts, washing his hands in his consulting room, said over hisshoulder to Miss Burgess:

“What about our stolid⁴⁰ sleuth, eh? Did he turn the place upside down and you inside out?”

“He didn’t get much out of me, I can tell you,” said Miss Burgess, setting her lips tightly.

“My dear girl, no need to be an oyster⁴¹. I told you to tell him all he wanted to know. What did hewant to know, by the way?”

“Oh, he kept harping⁴² on your knowing that man Shaitana—suggested even that he might havecome here as a patient under a different name. He showed me his photograph. Such a theatrical-looking man!”

“Shaitana? Oh, yes, fond of posing as a modern Mephistopheles. It went down rather well onthe whole. What else did Battle ask you?”

“Really nothing very much. Except—oh, yes, somebody had been telling him some absurdnonsense about Mrs. Graves—you know the way she used to go on.”

“Graves? Graves? Oh, yes, old Mrs. Graves. That’s rather funny!” The doctor laughed withconsiderable amusement. “That’s really very funny indeed.”

And in high good humour he went in to lunch.

 

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