The man of the house was absent again, so we were ushered in and told
that Lady Louisa would be down to see us shortly.

“Very nice,” said Sarah, instantly nosing around the room. She opened
a drawer.

I was shocked. “You can’t do that!”

“Yes, I can,” she said and gave me another of those odd looks. “I
suppose it is a bit pointless, though. I wouldn’t know if I did find
anything, since we have no idea what we’re looking for.”

I paced about the room. “You still shouldn’t poke around in people’s
cupboards, Sarah.”

“Then what would you do, Harry?” she shot back. I should have been
pleased that she had used my name for once, but the tone of her voice
was not one to inspire hope.

I frowned at her. “Well, I wouldn’t nose in other people’s private
business, old girl.”

“Except in the course of your duty,” she returned. “Like now.”

I reflected on that. “I suppose, if you look at it like that, we are
being a pair of busybodies. Still, we could be close to finding out
who murdered poor Polly and why. I think that’s important.”

She looked as though she’d like to hit me and I wondered what on earth
I’d said this time. I supposed she didn’t take kindly to me lecturing
her about curiosity. I imagine a journalist needs to do that sort of
thing.

*

Lady Louisa entered the room. I was startled to see how unwell she
had become since my visit a few days ago. I was hard put not to say
anything and made a mental note to try and persuade her to come for a
check-up in the near future.

“Miss Smith, I presume,” she said. “And Dr Sullivan. What can I do
for you?”

Sarah smiled at her. “Thank you for agreeing to see us, Lady Louisa.
We’re trying to find out what we can about the murder of Polly Wright
and we think you might be able to help.”

She flinched and looked from me to Sarah. “I beg your pardon?”

“At least,” said Sarah, “that’s why I’m here, but Dr Sullivan needs to
have a quick word with your daughter if that’s all right?”

I could hardly protest, but she was clearly shunting me out of the way
– not sensible when McCrimmon seemed to think that one of the Pollards
could be a murderer. Then I reflected that it was unlikely to be Lady
Louisa herself and even so, she could hardly murder Sarah and hope to
get away with it, not in her own house in broad daylight with me
likely to pop back into the room at any moment.

*

“What did you want, Dr Sullivan?” asked Charley, when I found her out
in the garden. She was her usual cheerful self, which was a relief
after Sarah’s unaccountable mood.

I had to think about that for a moment. I could hardly recall what my
excuse was supposed to be this time. “I’m not sure.”

“You are funny,” she told me. “Shall I try and guess? Does it have
anything to do with chicken pox?”

I coloured. “No. Not this time. You were kind enough to give me an
invitation – and I mislaid it. I thought perhaps you could remind me
of the time and so on. And if it isn’t too much of a cheek, would it
be possible to bring Miss Smith?”

“Oh, yes, do,” she said instantly. “Of course. It’ll be splendid to
meet her. I’d love to have a job like that, but of course Mother and
Father are so boringly traditional about what a Young Lady should do.
One day I’ll cut my hair, dress up as a boy and run away.”

“I don’t see the need to dress as a boy,” I said.

She thought about it. “Maybe not, but I thought it would throw
everyone off the scent. They’d all be looking for a girl and I’d be a
boy.”

“And, of course, you shouldn’t run away,” I added hastily, remembering
my position. “Your parents would worry.”

Charley smiled back at me. “No. But I would like to have adventures,
not stay in Nether St Yorick all my life. Mother always wraps me up
in cotton wool – sometimes I think I might suffocate.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find something to do. What would you choose?”

She said, “I’d like to go off exploring places. Sometimes I dream
that an explorer comes into the village and I go off with him as his
apprentice.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good plan,” I said. “Do explorers have
apprentices?”

“Yes, it is,” she declared. “The only trouble is, it’s not going to
actually happen, is it?”

Mrs Hudson would have things to say about Modern Females again.
Sometimes I was almost tempted to agree.

*

I wondered about going back to join Polly and Lady Louisa, but it
struck me that Charley might be a more useful source of information.
I couldn’t imagine even Sarah getting very far with her mother.

“There is something else,” I told her, lowering my tone. “You said
you wanted adventures, didn’t you? Well, Sarah and I seem to be right
in the middle of one.”

She turned, a spark in her dark eyes. “Really?”

“Yes,” I said. “Yesterday, someone stole my car and tried to kill
Miss Smith and somebody else bashed me over the head.”

She sat on the edge of the patio, her feet on the lawn and patted the
paving stones, an invitation to me to join her. I did so. “Is it to
do with the murder?”

“Yes,” I said. “And the fellow who hit me said that it might have
something to do with someone here.”

Charley thought about that. “Gosh!”

“I don’t know if I believe him,” I told her. “But we thought we’d
better find out what he meant by that. He seemed to think there was a
connection between Polly and this house.”

She rested her head in her hands. “Who was this person?”

“I think he was seeing one of the maids,” I explained. “Or two.”

Charley laughed. “Oh, Jamie from the garage!” Then she sobered
abruptly and looked at me. “Did he really hit you over the head? I
thought he seemed so nice.”

“Yes,” I said. “He said that Polly wanted him to find out something
or – I’m not really sure about it.”

She sighed. “Oh, dear.”

“Oh, dear?”

Charley chewed her lip. “Well, I shouldn’t really tell you. You see,
Mother doesn’t think I know and I don’t know if Father *does* know. I
only found out when I heard Mother talking to someone years ago, when
she thought I was asleep. And then I played detective and found some
old papers -.”

“What are you talking about? How could this have anything to do with
Polly Wright?”

She whispered, “You must swear on your life not to tell anyone.”

“What if I have to stop Inspector Mackenzie from arresting some other
innocent person? I don’t know if I can promise, old thing.”

Charley stared ahead. “But Mother wouldn’t murder anyone and I’m
almost sure Father doesn’t know, so it can’t be us. If you can’t
promise, you’ll just have to trust me.”

“So there is some connection between Polly and this house?”

She got to her feet. “I didn’t say so and I shall deny it if you try
to tell anyone else. So there!”

*

I found Sarah again, as she was on the point of saying farewell, and
accompanied her out of the house.

“Did you have any luck?”

She shook her head. “Lady Louisa told me she was terribly sorry to
hear about the poor girl who had been murdered, but she could not be
any further help. Then she lectured for a few minutes about girls who
went out to work instead of staying home and offered me a drink. I
refused and then there was an awkward silence. I tried asking some
questions about the rest of the family, but I got some polite nothings
in response and I felt I had to go.”

“I spoke to Miss Pollard,” I said, “and there is something, but she
says it can’t be the motive for the murder and she wouldn’t tell me
anything more, because I said I might have to tell the inspector.”

Sarah gave me an impatient look. “What did you have to bring the
inspector into things for?”

“I thought it was only fair.”

She rounded on me and seemed about to give me the benefit of her
temper and then she bit her lip, turned back and marched on ahead of
me out of the drive.

“Miss Smith, are you all right?” I asked, running to catch up with
her.

She nodded.

“Then what is it?”

She said, “I’m only frustrated that we can’t find anything more.
We’re so close!”

*

When we got back to my house, it was to find Inspector Mackenzie in
the drawing room with a cup of tea and a tea cake.

“Inspector,” I said, raising my eyebrows at the sight. “Twice in one
day – what an unexpected pleasure.”

He choked on a tea cake. Sarah thumped him on the back. “Thank you,
Miss,” he said at last, still red in the face. “Thought you’d like to
know that I’ve had to release Jackson due to lack of evidence.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I’m sure you’ve done the right thing,
Inspector. There’s something complicated here and I don’t think Ben
Jackson has any part in it.”

Sarah said, “Inspector, could I have a word alone?”

“Alone?” I said, taken aback.

She glanced out of the window. “Yes. Really, Dr Sullivan, someone
should get you a dictionary if you have difficulties with perfectly
simple words.”

“All right,” I said. “I’ll take myself out of my own drawing room and
keep out of your way. I’ve got a few things to get on with.”

*

Eventually, the Inspector did come and call me back in. I was already
feeling put out at their exclusion of me from the conversation, so
when I saw that they had my bag on the table, various objects spilling
out of it, I was annoyed. “I’ve already told you once today that
it’s not polite to go rummaging through a fellow’s things!”

Inspector Mackenzie coughed and laid down that old black notebook of
my uncle’s. “Perhaps you could explain that, Dr Sullivan?”

“That?” I said and picked it up. It was small – the sort of book that
might be used for addresses, except, as I’d said, this one was empty.
“My uncle left me some bits and bobs that he thought I might find
useful. I don’t know why that was in there – thought it might be a
list of patients or something, but when I finally got round to looking
at it, I found it didn’t have anything in.”

The inspector waited. “Open it up.”

I shrugged and obliged. Sarah was standing on the opposite side of
the room with her arms folded and I saw that Constable Benton had also
turned up since I’d left. I suppose I should have known something was
up, but I couldn’t think what. However, as I opened up the notebook
in front of them, my bewilderment grew. There were entries in it. “I
say,” I spluttered, “this can’t be the same book.”

“I recognise your uncle’s handwriting – don’t you?”

I stared down at it. He was right: everything was written in his neat
hand – too neat for a doctor, everyone always said – and the black ink
he preferred. “Yes, I do. What is this about?”

“You’ve been continuing his practice in more ways than one, haven’t
you?”

I shook my head. “I don’t follow you.”

“He was blackmailing a number of his patients,” said the inspector
bluntly. “Look at the sort of thing he’s written in here – all his
little ‘discoveries’ carefully recorded. And we know you’ve had this
book for a while – several people will testify to seeing it in your
possession. And if you knew what was in it, which you *must* have
done, then why you didn’t hand it over to me or just destroy the thing
-.”

I swallowed. “Look, this is all nonsense. I don’t know where this
came from, but I’ve never seen it before. My book was blank. And
nobody could think I’d been going around blackmailing people.”

“A likely story,” said the inspector. “Dr Sullivan, I’m arresting you
for the murder of Polly Wright. Anything you say may be taken down in
evidence and used against you and all that.”

“But – but – but -.”

He nodded to the constable.

“Sorry about this, Dr Sullivan,” said Benton, cuffing me. “You’ll
come quietly, won’t you?”

This had to be a nightmare. “Look,” I tried, “you’re making a
terrible mistake. I’ve never seen these notes before. Either it’s a
forgery or someone substituted the books and back again at some
point.”

“That’s a bit unlikely, don’t you think?” said Mackenzie.

It was, I had to admit. “Well, it might be, but it’s the truth.”

“Stop lying.”

We all turned to look at Sarah. It was the first thing she’d said
since I’d come back into the room.

“You’ve been found out, so stop trying to come up with unbelievable
stories,” she said, an angry light in her eyes. “You could at least
have the decency to confess.”

It was all so topsy-turvy, I was almost flattered that she thought I
was the sort of clever fellow who’d try and brazen it out to the end.
Of course, she also thought I was a poisonous underhand blackmailer
who’d murdered poor Polly.

“Look, inspector,” I said. “I’ll come along with you – I don’t have
much choice, do I? – but you’ll soon find that the people in that book
will tell you that I haven’t been blackmailing any of them.”

Sarah sat down and glared at me. “Well, Lady Louisa seemed to think
you had!”

I stared at her, robbed of the power of speech. I began to wonder if
everyone else had gone mad or maybe I had. Maybe I was some sort of
Jekyll and Hyde character and went round blackmailing and murdering
people without noticing.

“It stopped once your uncle left – and then someone started up again
once you’d turned up. What a coincidence,” continued Sarah.

This was staggering. If people thought I was a blackmailer, I was
surprised someone hadn’t gone and murdered me instead of Polly. It
would have made a lot more sense. Still, I thought if I started
complaining about not having been killed, it wouldn't help matters.

“Come on,” said the Inspector. “We’d better take you off to the
station, Dr Sullivan.”

If I said yesterday was a rotten day, I didn’t know what I was talking
about. This one was developing the potential to be the worst day of
my whole life. It probably would be, because if someone didn’t get me
out of this, I wouldn’t have an awful lot of life left to me.

***

To be continued (whereupon the reader will discover that when writing
a first person narrative, putting the narrator in jail is not the best
course of action).