CHAPTER X
Mr. Goddard, the District Inspector of Police, was a young man and stood on the lowest rung of his professional ladder. It was recognized by his superiors, it was even feared by the man himself, that he was never likely to rise very high in the service. He was, in fact, an inefficient officer. He had a natural sense of humour, which was a great misfortune, because it led him to see situations like those of comic operas in the course of the duties which he was called upon to perform. He was wise enough not to laugh loudly at the things which happened; but the fact that a great deal of what he had to do struck him as ludicrous prevented his doing his duty heartily and thoroughly. An Irish police officer ought to have a good opinion of himself and his position. He ought to recognize his official kinship with the potentates who draw large salaries for administering the affairs of the Indians, the Egyptians, and other barbarous peoples. He is humbler, of course, and is paid less; but he is engaged in the same kind of work. He is securing to a conquered people the blessings of law and order. Unfortunately, Mr. Goddard could never see himself steadily in this light. Another cause of his inefficiency was indolence. The duties which did not strike him as comic bored him intolerably; but like many lazy men, he was subject to spasms of vigour when irritated. It was his custom to avoid doing anything for as long as possible, and at last, if goaded beyond endurance, to act with a violence which surprised his subordinates. He had a taste for literature, even when it took the form of poetry, and used to read a good deal in the evenings.
He was reading a novel when Miss Blow and Constable Moriarty drove up to his house. He received them in his dining-room, and was chiefly anxious at first to get rid of them as soon as possible. He did not realize for some time that Miss Blow was the kind of woman who ought to be offered a chair and invited to sit down on it. She came, apparently, in the custody of a policeman, and Mr. Goddard did not look closely at her. She saved him from any embarrassment he might afterwards have felt by walking over to an armchair and settling herself comfortably in it.
Constable Moriarty produced Lord Manton’s note of complaint and handed it over to his officer. He explained that Sergeant Farrelly had called three times at Clonmore Castle and had waited in the hall for some hours in the hope of seeing Lord Manton. Mr. Goddard read the note and asked a number of questions. He succeeded in greatly embarrassing Constable Moriarty. That young man had the feelings of a gentleman. He would not say anything likely to cause pain or discomfort to a lady. He hesitated in his account of Miss Blow’s invasion of the barrack. He contradicted himself three times in trying to explain the views of the police about the disappearance of Dr. O’Grady.
Miss Blow cut into the conversation sharply.
“I demand,” she said, “that the police should investigate a case of murder, and they refuse to do so.”
Mr. Goddard, for the first time, took a good look at her. He realized at once that she was an extremely handsome girl. Even so it seemed improbable that any one would murder a dispensary doctor well known to be very popular.
“Murder,” he said tentatively, “is perhaps too strong a word.”
“Lord Manton agrees with me,” said Miss Blow, “that he has been murdered.”