“I don’t think so, Curtis. Must have felt the draught a bit, one would imagine.”
“Was the deceased a wealthy man, sir?” asked Bailey. “This Lord Wutherwood, I mean.”
“Oh, pretty well, you know,” said Alleyn vaguely. “There’s a monstrous place in Kent, I think. Not that that tells one anything. May have been hanging on by the skin of his teeth.”
“It sounds an unpleasant business,” said Dr. Curtis. “Through the eye, didn’t you say?”
“Yes. Beastly, isn’t it? Fox was very guarded when he rang up. I recognized his suspect-listening manner.”
“Large family of Lampreys?” asked Dr. Curtis.
“Masses of young, I fancy. Damn! We’re in for a nasty run, no doubt. Why the devil do these people have to get themselves messed up in a case like this?”
“Another instance,” said Dr. Curtis drily, “of the aristocracy mixing with the commonalty. They’ve tried trade and they’ve tried big business. Why not a spot of homicide? Sorry!” he added uncomfortably. “Silly statement. Very unprofessional. The peer was probably pinked by a — what? A servant? A lunatic? Somebody with an axe to grind? Here we are in Sloane Street. Cadogan Gardens, isn’t it?”
“Pleasaunce Court. Do you know the doctor, Curtis? His name’s Kantripp.”
“I do, as it happens. He was in my first year at Thomas’s. Nice fellow. Awkward business for him if, as one supposes, he’s the family doctor.”