"A doctor always knows his patients well."
"Yes, but I'm not talking about her bronchial tubes," said the Inspector. "To tell you the truth, I'm not over and above fond of people's insides. Not that I'm squeamish, mind you, but once you start thinking about how many yards of intestines, and I don't know what besides, you've got, it's enough to give you the horrors. Was Mr. Carter a patient of yours too?"
"Yes, but he didn't often have occasion to call me in on his own account."
"Still, you probably knew him pretty well, I dare say?"
"Fairly. If you want to know whether he was an intimate friend of mine, no: he wasn't."
The Inspector's penetrating gaze held a question. "I take it you didn't like him any more than anyone else seems to have done?"
"No, I didn't like him much," Chester replied calmly. "He was a tiresome sort of a man - no moral sense whatsoever, and as weak as water."
"Did it surprise you, when you heard he'd been shot, sir?"
"Naturally it did."
"You didn't know of anybody who might have wanted him out of the way?"