“I didn't wish him to,” replied Stella. “I hadn't ever considered the possibility. He wasn't the sort of person you'd expect to die, was he?”
“Well, I'm a doctor,” said Fielding, smiling.
“You mean you did expect it? You never told me.”
“No, I didn't exactly expect it. Nor should I have told you if I had, my darling.”
Stella laid down her knife and fork. “Deryk, please tell me one thing: Do you believe uncle was poisoned?”
“No, I don't,” he answered. “But although there were no signs not compatible with death from syncope, I couldn't undertake to state definitely that he was not poisoned upon a purely superficial examination.”
She looked a little troubled, and presently said: “I do wish there hadn't got to be a post-mortem. Whatever you may say, I believe you're secretly a bit afraid that they may find something.”
“I'm not in the least afraid of it,” said Fielding calmly. “I hope they won't, for all your sakes, but if there's any doubt I want it cleared up.”
Stella was unappeased. “Well, it's pretty beastly for the rest of us. I must say I hoped you weren't going to give in to Aunt Gertrude. Couldn't you have stopped it all?”
He raised his eyebrows rather quizzically. “My dearest child! What about my professional reputation?”