“Anyhow, you read papers before learned bodies and have them printed. And you come with as silly a story as a Staffordshire peasant who thinks someone has been trying to poison him because he’s got a stomach-ache. You may be a very admirable surgeon, but I venture to think I am more capable than you of judging in a case which I attended and you know nothing about.”
“I mean to take the steps necessary to get an order for exhumation, Dr Richardson, and I cannot help thinking it will be worth your while to assist me in every possible way.”
“I shall do nothing of the kind. I think you very impertinent, sir. There is no need for exhumation, and I shall do everything in my power to prevent it. And I tell you as chairman of the board of magistrates, my opinion will have as great value as any specialist’s in Harley Street.”
He flounced to the door and held it open. Susie and Dr Porhoët walked out; and Arthur, looking down thoughtfully, followed on their heels. Dr Richardson slammed the street-door angrily.
Dr Porhoët slipped his arm in Arthur’s.
“You must be reasonable, my friend,” he said. “From his own point of view this doctor has all the rights on his side. You have nothing to justify your demands. It is monstrous to expect that for a vague suspicion you will be able to get an order for exhumation.”
Arthur did not answer. The trap was waiting for them.
“Why do you want to see Haddo?” insisted the doctor. “You will do no more good than you have with Dr Richardson.”
“I have made up my mind to see him,” answered Arthur shortly. “But there is no need that either of you should accompany me.”
“If you go, we will come with you,” said Susie.