‘I thought they’d be bound to have got you up there already,’ the boy continued, ‘so I chased up after the fellow and found the Colonel stretched out on the bed, face covered up and all that. Gideon was there too, and as soon as I got up in the room I grasped what it was they wanted me for. Mine was to be the signature on the cremation certificate.’
‘Cremation? They’re in a bit of a hurry, aren’t they?’
Prenderby nodded.
‘That’s what I thought, but Gideon explained that the old boy’s last words were a wish that he should be cremated and the party should continue, so they didn’t want to keep the body in the house a moment longer than was absolutely necessary.’
‘Wanted the party to go on?’ repeated Abbershaw stupidly. ‘Absurd!’
The young doctor leant forward. ‘That’s not all by any means,’ he said. ‘When I found what they wanted, naturally I pointed out that you were the senior man and should be first approached. That seemed to annoy them both. Old Whitby, who was very nervous, I thought, got very up-stage and talked a lot of rot about “Practising M.D.s”, but it was the foreigner who got me into the really unpleasant hole. He pointed out, in that disgustingly sticky voice he has, that I was a guest in the house and could hardly refuse such a simple request. It was all damn cheek, and very awkward, but eventually I decided to rely on your decency to back me up and so . . .’ He paused.
‘Did you sign?’ Abbershaw said quickly.
Prenderby shook his head. ‘No,’ he said with determination, adding explanatorily: ‘They wouldn’t let me look at the body.’
‘What?’ Abbershaw was startled. Everything was tending in the same direction. The situation was by no means a pleasant one.
‘You refused?’ he said.