“You did not tell me that,” said Hannasyde.
“I beg your pardon,” replied the doctor politely. “I suppose it slipped my memory. In any case, it doesn't seem very material to me. Mrs Lupton herself will tell you that I was in no sense averse from having a post-mortem inquiry. Quite the reverse:: if there was any suspicion of foul play I naturally was one of the first to want a full inquiry.”
The Inspector shot a question at him. “Were you on good terms with the deceased?”
Fielding looked at him with a slightly amused expression on his face. “No, Inspector,” he said. “I was not.”
“Will you tell us why, doctor?” asked Hannasyde.
The doctor regarded his finger-nails. “Since you ask me I am bound to tell you why,” he answered. “It is not particularly pleasant for me to have to do so, but I have not the smallest desire to hinder you by keeping anything back which you may think of importance. Mr Matthews was bitterly opposed to my engagement to his niece.”
“Why?” asked the Inspector.
The doctor was silent for a moment. Then he said in a somewhat constricted tone: “Mr Matthews had discovered—how, I don't know—that my father died in a Home for Hopeless Inebriates.”
The Inspector looked very much shocked, and coughed in an embarrassed way. Hannasyde said in his unemotional voice: “It is naturally very distasteful for you to discuss such a matter, doctor, but did Mr Matthews impart this knowledge to Miss Stella Matthews?”
“It made no difference to her,” replied the doctor.