With an inward sigh of relief Colin opened the door of the surgery,
and beckoned to the solitary old woman who was still sitting grimly
in the corner of the waiting room. She was the thirty-fourth patient
he had interviewed that morning, and the prospect of a well-earned
lunch with Nancy was beginning to dangle pleasantly in front of his
exhausted spirits.
The old woman entered the surgery, and, after placing a bulky string
bag upon his consulting table, deposited herself in an armchair
alongside.
Colin took his own seat and smiled at her encouragingly.
"Well, mother," he said, "what's the matter?"
The patient folded her hands. "I've bin pizened," she said. "That's
wot's the matter with me, young man. I've bin pizened."
Colin sat back and nodded gravely. "When did this happen?" he
inquired.
"Ha!" said the lady, rather bitterly. "That's the very pint I'm
comin' to. Are you a pertickler friend o' Doctor Hashton's?"
"I am," said Colin. "That's why I'm taking his practice."
"In that case," continued the visitor, "I don't mind telling you,
young man, that it was 'im as done it."
"What, poisoned you?" exclaimed Colin. "Surely not."
The lady reached for her bag, and, after fumbling among its contents,
produced a half empty bottle of medicine. She handed this to Colin,
who examined the label.
"Are you Mrs. Jones?" he inquired.
"That's right, young man," was the answer. "Mrs. Jones o' Baxter's
Rents, and there ain't no one in Shadwell wot can say to the
contrary."
"And why do you think that Doctor Ashton has poisoned you?"
Mrs. Jones leaned forward mysteriously and tapped the bottle.
"You can see for yourself, young man. 'E's given me the wrong
medicine. Mind you, I don't say that 'e done it a purpose. I expect
'e was a bit 'urried and made a mistake. All the same, there ain't
no gettin' away from it. 'E's given me the wrong medicine, an' I'm
pizened."
Colin extracted the cork and took a sniff at the contents.
"It seems all right to me," he observed.
"There's nothing wrong with the smell," admitted Mrs. Jones. "It's
the colour wot I'm speakin' about."
"What's the matter with the colour?" demanded Colin. "Some of the
best medicines are red."
"Not mine," returned Mrs. Jones doggedly. "My medicine's yeller,
always 'as bin. The moment I set me eyes on that bottle I says to
meself, ''E's made a mistake.'"
"Then why on earth did you take it?"
Mrs. Jones looked a trifle surprised. "Well, young man, I'd paid
ninepence for it, an', not knowin' then as it was pizen, I didn't see
no reason for wastin' the money."
"And you say it made you ill?"
"It's only through the mercy o' Gawd that I'm sittin' 'ere now," said
Mrs. Jones impressively. "D'rec'ly the third dose passed me lips I
come over queer."
Colin poured out a little of the medicine into a glass and tasted it
judiciously.
"I don't think you've any reason to be anxious, Mrs. Jones," he said.
"Doctor Ashton was only trying you with a new prescription. It's a
very good one indeed, but I suppose it doesn't quite suit your
constitution."
Mrs. Jones looked round and lowered her voice. "If that's the case,"
she demanded, "why 'as 'e run away?"
"He hasn't run away," said Colin. "He's coming back to-morrow or the
next day. He's only gone up north to look after his wife's mother."
There was a pause.
"Well," said Mrs. Jones doubtfully, "I 'as my own opinions on that
point, but seein' as 'ow you're a friend of 'is I don't blame you for
standin' up for 'im. Besides, between you an' me, young man, I
wouldn't get Doctor Hashton into trouble, not on no account. We all
make mistakes at times, even the best of us. You give me a bottle o'
the yeller medicine, the same as I always 'as, an' I sha'n't say no
more about it."
"Right you are," said Colin. He rose from his chair, and, crossing
to the cupboard where Mark kept two or three innocuous and highly
coloured mixtures ready made up, filled a bottle with the desired
specific.
Mrs. Jones inspected it with approval.
"I'm much obliged to you, young man," she observed. "Hall's well
that hends well, as the sayin' is. You can tell the doctor from me
that 'e won't 'ear no more o' this, so 'e can come back 'ome just as
soon as ever 'e likes."
She tucked away the bottle in her bag and made her exit through the
side door, which Colin had stepped forward to open for her. As she
passed out Martha Jane appeared in the passage.
"Are you ready for lunch, sir?" she inquired.
"I'm more than ready," said Colin. "I'm positively aching for it."
Martha Jane nodded sympathetically. "It must be 'ard work for a
young gentleman like you, sir, 'avin' to sit there and listen to all
them diseases. You go along into the dinin' room and I'll run up and
tell Miss Nancy. I sha'n't keep you waitin' more than a couple o'
minutes."
Colin returned to his desk, and, having completed his report, with a
brief entry on the subject of Mrs. Jones, made his way out into the
hall, where he encountered Nancy in the act of descending the
staircase.
"I'll be with you in a second," he said. "I'm just going to remove
the germs."
He hurried across to the cloak room, and, after changing his coat and
indulging in a welcome bout with a basin of hot water, emerged again
in a hungry but contented humour.
Nancy was already seated at the table, looking disturbingly pretty in
her severe and businesslike costume. Although, on his arrival at the
surgery, they had spent a crowded quarter of an hour together,
opening the post and discussing the day's work, this was the first
opportunity they had had for anything like a private conversation.
"Well," she inquired cheerfully, "how have you been getting on this
morning?"
Colin sank into the vacant chair and stretched out his hand toward
the whisky.
"I'm still alive," he said, "but that's about all. Every day, in
every respect, my admiration for Mark grows deeper and deeper."
Nancy pushed across the soda. "I often wonder he hasn't broken
down," she said. "It's only sheer good nature and kindness that keep
him going. He comes in to lunch every day and says the most
blood-curdling things about the patients, but in his heart he just
loves them all."
"I know he does," returned Colin, "and I've been trying to copy his
example. It's thirsty work, though, when you come to people like
Mrs. Jones." He took a long drink and set down the tumbler. "By the
way, is there any news from him?"
"Not yet," said Nancy. "The operation was to be at ten o'clock, and
he promised to wire directly he knew the result. We shall probably
get a telegram this afternoon."
Colin attacked the roast chicken, which Martha Jane had cooked to
perfection, and passed over a generous helping.
"And what about last night?" he inquired. "I had no time to ask you
anything this morning, but I'm longing to hear how Fenton behaved
himself."
"Well, to begin with," said Nancy, "he asked me to marry him."
Colin paused in the act of dissecting a wing.
"Did he, by Jove! I hope you told him to go to blazes?"
"Something rather similar," said Nancy, "only I tried to put it as
nicely as possible."
"And how did he take it?"
Nancy paused. "It may sound conceited," she replied, "but I should
say he was more angry and disappointed than any one I ever saw in my
life."
"I can quite believe it," said Colin. "You're just the sort of girl
who'd make a man feel like that."
She shook her head. "I'm not trying to be modest, Colin. I know I'm
pretty--even other women have told me so--but I assure you my looks
have got nothing to do with the matter. Do you suppose that a girl
doesn't know when a man is really in love with her? Major Fenton
doesn't care that for me." She snapped her fingers.
"I shouldn't wonder if you're right," agreed Colin. "A chap with a
face like that could hardly have much capacity for romance. I should
say that champagne was more in his line."
"All the same," said Nancy, "he's quite serious about wanting to
marry me, and, what's more, he's made up his mind that he's going to
do it."
"How do you mean?" inquired Colin. "Did he turn nasty when you told
him it was a wash-out?"
"Very nasty," said Nancy calmly. "He accused me of all sorts of
things, my chief crime being that I've allowed myself to be
influenced by you."
"Well, I don't want to brag," admitted Colin modestly, "but I've
certainly done my best. Does he know that I'm taking Mark's
practice?"
She nodded. "Yes, I'd told him at the beginning of dinner. I
suppose that was what put the idea into his head." She stopped.
"Colin," she said, "don't think me stupid and melodramatic, but do
you know, I am really rather frightened. There was something in the
way he spoke about you, something that made me feel as if--oh, I know
it sounds ridiculous--but as if you were in actual danger."
Colin sat back and smiled contentedly. "This is too good to be
true," he observed. "I've been longing to punch his head ever since
he told you that lie about my leaving the hospital."
"But you don't understand," persisted Nancy. "He wouldn't try
anything himself, of course; he's much more likely to pay someone
else to do it. You go about alone all over the place, and in a rough
neighbourhood like Shadwell----"
"You needn't be anxious," interrupted Colin. "I shall keep my eyes
open, I promise you. If Fenton's got hold of the idea that I'm in
his way, I can quite believe he'll stick at nothing." He paused.
"What beats me altogether," he added, "is why he wants to make you
his wife. You haven't the least doubt that he's really in earnest?"
"Not the least. He even went so far as talking about a special
license, and suggesting that we should be married this week."
"That makes it fishier still," said Colin, frowning. He stared
thoughtfully at his plate for a moment or two, and then suddenly
pushed back his chair. "I know what I shall do," he continued. "I
shall tell Marsden the whole story and ask him for his advice. I'm
perfectly certain there's some damned crooked business at the back of
it."
"But you can't possibly bother the police," objected Nancy. "After
all, Major Fenton has only asked me to marry him, and there's nothing
very criminal in that."
"Depends on what you call criminal," said Colin. "I should say he
deserved ten years for his confounded cheek."
As he spoke the door opened and Martha Jane inserted her head.
"Would you like any sweet?" she inquired. "There's a nice plum tart
in the kitchen if either of you fancy a bit."
Colin glanced at his watch.
"It sounds alluring," he said, "but I don't think I can spare the
time. I must start out on my round at half-past, and I shall have to
run through the cases first and see what I've got to take with me."
He rose from his chair, Nancy following his example.
Martha Jane looked at them both with disapproval.
"You're as bad as the doctor, every bit," she observed. 'Ow do you
expect to keep well if you don't feed proper? What with this here
snatching and picking it's a wonder to me that you ain't all in your
graves."
"You might give us an extra good tea to make up for it," suggested
Colin.
"Oh, I forgot to tell you," said Nancy. "I'm afraid I shall be out
when you get back. I've promised to go round and see old Mrs.
Merivale, one of Mark's patients."
"Oh!"
Colin's face fell. "That's a blow," he said sadly. "I can never
enjoy my tea properly unless someone pours it out for me."
"I daresay Martha Jane will do it if you ask her nicely," said Nancy.
"In any case, I'll try and get back in time for the second cup."
With an encouraging smile she passed out into the hall, and, having
paused to light himself a cigarette, Colin returned to the surgery.
Half an hour later, with Mark's black bag in one hand and a stout
stick in the other, he set forth into the chill and uninviting
atmosphere of the December afternoon. He was not disturbed by
Nancy's vague alarm with regard to his personal safety, but his
practice took him into a pretty rough neighbourhood, and a good tough
ash seemed to him a distinctly suitable companion.
As it turned out, however, the precaution was an unnecessary one.
During his long ramble through the lowest parts of Shadwell he met
with nothing but good-natured civility. Wherever he went, down
sordid alleys and up rickety staircases, a friendly welcome
invariably awaited him. His experience at the hospital had given him
the knack of getting on readily with poor people, and, since he had
done the same round on the previous day, he was already on familiar
terms with most of his patients.
By the time he returned to the surgery it was close on five o'clock.
Darkness was rapidly setting in, and the feeling that his out-of-door
duty was over for the day seemed to lend an additional attraction to
the warmth and comfort of the brightly lit hall.
As he closed the front door Martha Jane emerged from the kitchen.
"A man came to see you just after you'd gone out, sir," she informed
him. "Party of the name of Bates. Said he'd call again."
Colin, who had heard nothing of Joe since they had parted outside the
station, received the news with no little interest.
"Did he mention any particular time?" he asked.
"No, sir. 'E just said 'e'd look round again later."
"Well, let me know at once if he does," he replied. "I'll see him
immediately, no matter how many people are waiting."
Martha Jane nodded. "There's a letter and a telegram come for you
too, sir. They're over there on the hall table." She paused.
"Per'aps as Miss Nancy's out you'd like your tea in the surgery?"
"Yes, that will be best," said Colin. "You can bring it along in as
soon as it's ready."
He divested himself of his coat, and, crossing to the table, picked
up the telegram. As he expected, it bore the Lincoln postmark, and
with eager fingers he slit open the flap and pulled out the contents.
"Operation a complete success. Shall be home to-morrow about
one.--MARK."
He turned to Martha Jane.
"This is from Doctor Ashton," he said. "Everything has gone off
splendidly, and he hopes to be back to-morrow."
"'E would," was the answer. "Wild 'orses wouldn't keep 'im from
work, not so long as 'e's got a breath in his body."
Colin laughed, and, taking up the letter, walked forward into the
surgery. A bright fire was burning away cheerfully in the grate,
and, having flicked on the electric light, he seated himself at his
desk and proceeded to open the envelope.
A single glance at the letter inside showed him that it was from
Inspector Marsden.
"SCOTLAND YARD,
"Thursday, December 12th.
"DEAR DOCTOR GRAY,--You will be interested to hear that we have
at last managed to pick up the tracks of William Kennedy,
Professor Carter's servant. It seems that he has been very ill,
and for the last two months has been living in an out-of-the-way
village in Hertfordshire under the care of an old female cousin.
The latter, who is apparently unable to read, had heard nothing
about the murder, and it was only last night that Kennedy was
informed of the facts. I am making arrangements to motor down
and interview him to-morrow, don't suppose I shall be back at the
Yard until the evening, but if you would care to look in any time
after six I shall be pleased to see you and to let you know the
result of my journey.
"I am,
"Yours sincerely,
"JAMES MARSDEN."
With considerable satisfaction Colin folded the letter and put it
away in his pocket. It was a relief to know that things were moving
at last, for, even if Kennedy were unable to throw any direct light
on the murder, the information he could supply with regard to the
Professor's private life might well be the starting-point for further
discoveries.
He was pondering over the possibilities of the situation when Martha
Jane arrived with his tea. She had evidently accepted her
appointment as Nancy's understudy in a serious spirit, for she not
only filled his cup, but stood by with watchful solicitude until she
was certain that he was provided with everything that he required.
Just as she was turning to leave the room there came a ring at the
bell.
"I wonder if that's our friend Joe Bates," said Colin. "If it is,
bring him in at once."
There was an interval of nearly a minute, and then, looking rather
flushed and ruffled, Martha Jane reappeared, closing the door behind
her.
"It ain't 'im," she announced; "it's a patient. 'E's waiting
outside." She nodded toward the hall.
"Oh, hang it all!" exclaimed Colin. "This is my hour off. I'm not
going to see any more patients until six. Why on earth didn't you
tell him?"
"Tell 'im!" repeated Martha Jane indignantly. "I told 'im right
enough."
"And do you mean to say he won't go away?"
"'E just pushed me on one side and sat himself down," was the answer.
"'E says 'e means to wait 'ere until you come out."
Colin rose to his feet, and, swiftly crossing the room, threw open
the door.
A man who was seated on one of the hall chairs jumped up at his
appearance. He was a rough-looking customer of the longshoreman
type, with a deep scar on one side of his face and a dirty
handkerchief knotted round his neck.
Colin walked up to him.
"What do you mean by forcing your way into the house?" he demanded.
"If you want to see me you can go round to the surgery and wait until
it's open."
The intruder stood his ground, fumbling awkwardly with his cap.
"No offence, doctor," he muttered. "If I done wrong I asks yer
pardon."
"Well, you heard what I said," returned Colin. "There's the door
behind you."
The man still made no attempt to move. "Don't be 'ard, doctor," he
said hoarsely. "I want yer to come along and see a pal o' mine, a
pore bloke wot's 'ad a haccident dahn at Truscott's wharf."
Colin shook his head. "I can't manage it now," he said. "I've got
to be here at six to see my patients."
"You can be back before then, doctor," persisted the other eagerly.
"It's only a step from 'ere--s'elp me Gawd, it is."
"I know the place," said Colin. "It will take a good twenty minutes
to get there."
"'E ain't on the wharf now," explained the other. "We've carried 'im
along to 'is own 'ouse."
"Where's that?" demanded Colin.
The man hesitated. "It's dahn at the bottom o' Flood Lane. One o'
them old 'ouses backin' on the river."
Colin recognized the spot from his description--a ruinous and
half-deserted slum, most of which had already been demolished.
Before he could speak, however, the visitor resumed his petition.
"For Gawd's sake come along an' 'ave a look at 'im, guv'nor. We
can't find no other doctor, an' 'e's sufferin' somethin' crool."
Colin glanced at his watch. "Oh, very well," he said curtly. "I
sha'n't have time to attend to the man properly, but if I find it's a
matter for surgical treatment I'll give you a note to the hospital.
Just wait here and I'll be with you in a minute."
He stepped back into the consulting room, and, crossing to the
opposite door, summoned Martha Jane.
"When Miss Nancy comes in," he said, "you might tell her that I've
been called out on an urgent case. I'm only going as far as the
bottom of Flood Lane, so I shall be back by six."
He thrust one or two articles which might be needed into his bag,
and, hurrying out again into the hall, unhooked his hat and coat.
"What sort of injury is it?" he asked, as the front door closed
behind them. "A broken leg or something of that kind?"
His companion, who was slightly ahead of him, pushed open the small
iron gate and turned to the left in the direction of the river.
"No," he answered slowly, "'e ain't broke nothing--leastways, not as
I knows of. The pain's inside of 'im, so 'e says. Twisted 'is guts,
I reckon, from the way 'e's carryin' on."
He relapsed into silence, and, checking his pace a few yards farther
on, led the way down a dark and narrow alley.
They emerged on to a desolate strip of waste land, where stray piles
of brick and other refuse were dotted about forlornly under the light
of a solitary street lamp. Exactly opposite them were the partly
demolished remains of a large warehouse, with two crazy and
tumble-down houses still standing alongside. Behind these, half a
mile wide, ran the dark and sluggish current of the Thames.
Colin's guide pointed across toward the dilapidated dwellings.
"That's the 'ouse," he observed, "the end one o' them two. You want
to step careful, doctor; there's a number o' bad places abaht 'ere."
He set forward again, picking his way deliberately between the heaps
of débris and the numerous pools of dirty water which infested the
whole district. Colin followed close behind him, and after several
minutes of this unpleasant progress they came out on to a muddy and
deserted roadway which ran parallel with the river.
Colin glanced back over the route they had come. "A nice open
situation," he remarked, "but I should think that the people who
lived here were rather apt to break their necks."
"It's an orkard spot to get to in the dark," admitted his companion.
"You'll be all right though, doctor. I'll see yer back meself as far
as Flood Lane."
He crossed the road and advanced toward the houses, one of which
appeared to be uninhabited. A dim light was burning on the ground
floor of the second, and, mounting the broken step, he rapped twice
on the door with his knuckles.
After some delay it was opened by a gaunt, haggard-looking woman, who
held up the candle she was carrying and peered suspiciously into the
darkness. She evidently recognized the visitor, for without
inquiring his business she stepped back silently against the wall.
"That's 'is wife," observed the man, turning to Colin. "She's a bit
queer in the 'ead, so you won't get nothing out of 'er."
He moved aside to make room for Colin's entrance, and then, closing
the door behind them, addressed himself to the woman.
With a furtive nod she started off along the passage, at the end of
which there was another room facing the front door.
Colin, who had turned to follow her, took a pace forward. It was
only one pace, for as his foot touched the ground something soft and
heavy came down with a blinding thud on the back of his head. Half
stunned by the blow, he pitched forward full length on to the rough
and uncarpeted boards, and at the same instant two men sprang forward
out of the room, and flung themselves heavily on top of him.
What happened during the next few minutes seemed to belong to the
world of nightmare. He had a vague impression of fighting
desperately with fists and teeth and feet; then a savage hand gripped
him by the throat, and everything was wiped out in a sudden and
suffocating blackness.
* * * * * * * * *
"I tell yer I knows 'im. It's the swine that was 'elpin' the cops
when they pulled 'Ginger Dick.'"
The hoarse voice, which sounded very far away, penetrated slowly into
Colin's mind, and, opening his eyes, he stared up at the speaker.
He was still in the passage, stretched out flat on his back, with his
ankles tied together and his arms bound tightly to his sides. Three
men were standing round him, and, in spite of the dim light and the
almost stupefying pain in his head, he had no difficulty in
recognizing them. The bloodstained face that was scowling at him had
been engraved on his memory ever since the day when he first met
Nancy. It belonged to the ruffian who had led the attack on Marsden
and had kicked him in the ribs when he was lying helpless on the
ground. The other two were the plausible visitor to the surgery and
Mr. "Spike" Cooper.
It was the latter who replied to the first man's outburst.
"What the hell's that got to do with it, anyway?" he drawled. "I'm
here on business, and it don't matter a cuss to me whether he's your
long-lost brother."
"It matters to me though," growled the other. "I 'ad somethin' up
against 'im before, an' now 'e's bashed 'alf me faice in with 'is
blarsted boot. Taike that, yer swine!"
He lifted his foot, but before he could accomplish his genial purpose
a violent shove from "Spike" Cooper sent him staggering against the
wall.
"None o' that, you fool! Didn't you hear what the boss said? If
there's any marks on his body we don't get the money." He turned to
the man with the scar, who had watched the fracas with cynical
indifference. "No good messing about, Jake. Catch hold of his feet
and we'll cart him down straight away."
Suiting the action to the word, the two of them raised him quickly
from the floor and carried him forward through the open doorway.
With a muttered oath the third accomplice pulled himself together and
lurched in after them.
All effective resistance being out of the question Colin made no
attempt to struggle or cry out. He felt certain that death was very
close at hand, and his whole being was racked with a sick fury as he
thought of the easy way in which he had allowed himself to be trapped.
Through his half-closed eyes he saw that the room which they had
entered was in a state of indescribable filth. The floor was
littered with empty bottles and old newspapers, the damp plaster was
peeling off the bare walls, and the small window, which apparently
looked out on to the river, was thickly coated with grime.
In the left-hand corner the raised flap of a trapdoor was just
visible in the gloom. His two bearers dropped him unceremoniously on
the boards alongside, and with a curt air of authority "Spike" Cooper
jerked his thumb toward the hole.
"You get down first, Jake," he said, "and we'll lower him through."
Jake accepted the order without comment, and, swinging himself into
the opening, began slowly disappearing from view down the rungs of a
rusty iron ladder.
A moment later there came a muffled voice from below.
"Right you are, mate."
Dragging Colin's feet toward the edge, the other two men jerked him
roughly from the ground. The next instant his legs were dangling in
space, and with the iron rungs bumping against his back he slid
rapidly down into the darkness below.
Just before he reached the bottom he felt himself clutched round the
waist by a pair of strong arms. Then he was lifted clear of the
ladder, and dumped heavily on to a damp stone floor.
After a brief interval "Spike" Cooper also descended, and, producing
an electric torch, switched on the light. Colin saw that they were
in a large cellar, the walls of which were dripping with wet slime.
Except for the trapdoor there appeared to be only one other
opening--a heavily barred grating some eight feet from the floor.
Bending down over his prisoner, "Spike" Cooper flashed the light full
in his face.
"That was a dandy fight of yours, mister," he drawled slowly, "and
I'm real sorry we got to put you through it."
Colin looked up at him unflinchingly. "You seem to take a long time
about committing a murder," he said. "Why don't you finish the job
and clear out?"
The other shook his head. "That's just the trouble," he replied,
with a touch of regret in his voice. "In order to suit the party
that's arranging this little affair you got to be found
drowned--picked out of the Thames. See, mister?"
Colin glanced round, and in a sudden flash the real meaning of the
dripping walls became hideously apparent. With a strong effort he
managed to control his voice.
"So that's your plan, is it?" he said. "I'm to be left here until
the cellar's flooded?"
"Spike" Cooper nodded. "It's a dog's trick," he admitted
reluctantly, "but I guess you'll find it as easy a death as any
other. Soon as the water's up level with that grating it pours in
here like a Gawd-damned Niagara." He paused. "What I'm buckin' up
against," he continued, "is your having to lie here a couple of hours
waiting for the tide. Seems to be kinder cruel, that."
In spite of the grim prospect in front of him, Colin laughed.
"Thank you very much," he replied. "I hope that when you're hanged
death will be instantaneous."
They were interrupted by an impatient movement from the other man.
"Come along, Spike," he growled. "Wot the hell's the use o' standin'
'ere jawin'?"
"I guess you're about right," was Mr. Cooper's philosophical answer.
He bent forward once more, and, having satisfied himself that the
cords were properly fastened, turned to follow his companion, who was
already halfway up the ladder.
Colin watched them disappear through the opening above, then the
trapdoor closed down, leaving him in complete darkness.
A moment later he heard a grinding clang as a rusty bolt shot home
into its socket.