The maid went off towards the kitchen, whereupon he closed the door behind him and rang up. To his relief, Sir Clinton Driffield was at home; and in less than a couple of minutes Dr. Ringwood was able to tell his story.
"This is Dr. Ringwood speaking, Sir Clinton. You may remember me; I’m attending your butler."
"Nothing wrong in the case, I hope?" the Chief Constable demanded.
"No, it’s not that. I was called here—Heatherfield, 26 Lauderdale Avenue, this evening. I’m Dr. Carew’s locum and a stranger in Westerhaven; and in this fog I went to the wrong house—the one next door to here: Ivy Lodge, 28 Lauderdale Avenue. Mr. Hassendean’s house. The place was lit up and a car was at the door; but I got no answer when I rang the bell. Something roused my suspicions and I went inside. The house was empty: no maids or anyone on the premises. In a smoke-room on the ground floor I found a youngster of about twenty-two or so, dying. He’d been shot twice in the lung and he died on my hands almost as I went in."
He paused; but as Sir Clinton made no comment, Dr. Ringwood continued:
"The house hadn’t a telephone. I came in here, after locking the smoke-room door. I’ve a patient to see in this house. How long will it take your people to get to Ivy Lodge and take charge?"
"I’ll be over myself in twenty minutes," Sir Clinton replied. "Probably the local police will be there about the same time. I’ll ring them up now."
"Very well. I’ll see to my patient here; and then I’ll go back to Ivy Lodge to wait for you. Someone ought to be on the premises in case the maids or the family come home again."
"Right. I’ll be with you shortly. Good-bye."
Dr. Ringwood, glancing at his watch, saw that it was twenty minutes past ten.
"They ought to be here about a quarter to eleven, if they can find their way in that fog," he reflected.
Leaving the cloakroom, he made his way to the nearest sitting-room and rang the bell for the maid.
"The water will be boiling in a minute or two, doctor," she announced, coming from the back premises. "Will you need it before you go up to see Ina, or shall I bring it up to you?"
"I may not need it at all. Show me the way, please."
She led him up to the patient’s room and waited while he made his examination.
"What is it, doctor?" she demanded when he came out again.
"She’s got scarlatina, I’m afraid. Rather a bad attack. She ought to be taken to hospital now, but on a night like this I doubt if the hospital van could get here easily. Have you had scarlet yourself, by any chance?"
"Yes, doctor. I had it when I was a child."
Dr. Ringwood nodded, as though contented by the information.
"Then you don’t run much risk of taking it from her. That simplifies things. I’d rather not shift her to-night, just in case the van lost its way. But if you can look after her for a few hours, it will be all right."
The maid did not seem altogether overjoyed at this suggestion. Dr. Ringwood sought for some way out of the difficulty.
"There’s nobody at home to-night, is there?"
"No, sir. Mr. Silverdale hasn’t been home since lunch-time, and Mrs. Silverdale went out immediately after dinner."
"When will she be back?"
"Not till late, sir, I expect. Young Mr. Hassendean came to dinner, and they went off in his car. I expect they’ve gone to the Alhambra to dance, sir."
Dr. Ringwood repressed his involuntary movement at the name Hassendean.
"When in doubt, play the medicine-man card," he concluded swiftly in his mind, without betraying anything outwardly. It seemed possible that he might get some evidence out of the maid before she became confused by any police visit. He assumed an air of doubt as he turned again to the woman.
"Did Mrs. Silverdale come much in contact with the housemaid during the day?"
"No, sir. Hardly at all."
"H’m! When did Mrs. Silverdale have dinner?"
"At half-past seven, sir."
"Was this Mr. Hassendean here long before dinner?"
"No, sir. He came in a few minutes before the half-hour."
"Where were they before dinner?"
"In the drawing-room, sir."
"The maid had been in that room during the day, I suppose?"
"Only just doing some dusting, sir. She had been complaining of a sore throat and being out of sorts, and she didn’t do anything she could avoid bothering with."
Dr. Ringwood shook his head as though he were not very easy in his mind.
"Then Mrs. Silverdale and Mr. Hassendean went in to dinner? Did the housemaid wait at dinner?"
"No, sir. By that time she was feeling very bad, so I sent her to bed and looked after the dinner myself."
"She hadn’t touched the dishes, or anything of that sort?"
"No, sir."
"And immediately after dinner, Mrs. Silverdale and Mr. Hassendean went out?"
The maid hesitated for a moment.
"Yes, sir. At least——"
Dr. Ringwood made his face grave.
"Tell me exactly what happened. One never can tell with these scarlet cases."
