A Dismal Thing To Do by Charlotte MacLeod

were they what might be designated as standard issue?”
    “They would fit more appositely into the latter category.”
    “Ah, then others of their ilk might be procurable at short notice.”
    “They might,” Mr. X conceded after due deliberation.
    “Then,” said the deputy commissioner. “I expect you haven’t ruled out the possibility of a substitution somewhere along the line.”
    Madoc hoped they also hadn’t ruled out the possibility that the drivers had taken along their own ipecac. He decided not to bring that up just now. Mr. X was already having a hard enough time keeping his qualifying remarks under control.
    Perhaps Mr. X was tired of the struggle. “All this talk isn’t getting us anywhere, damn it. Let’s see that deposition of Mrs. Rhys’s.”
    “By all means,” said the deputy commissioner. “Rhys, would you—?”
    Rhys would, and did. They spent a while passing Xeroxed pages back and forth. Mr. X did a fair amount of grunting. Then he nodded briskly and stood up. “Right. Let’s go see whether Mrs. Rhys can give us a description of those men.”
    “She didn’t see them, sir,” Madoc protested.
    “Well, damn it, she must have seen something. Some— er—something or other. Got transport, Rhys?”
    “No sir, I walked over.”
    “No matter. Got a driver outside. Unless he’s been hijacked,” Mr. X added with a slightly worried smile.
    He hadn’t. Unless Madoc was much mistaken, the driver had been taking a nap. However, he snapped briskly enough to attention and held the doors for the delegation. Madoc got in last and sat up front so he could tell the driver where to go, which wasn’t far. They could all have walked, for that matter, but he’d known better than to make any such suggestion, even though he could have done without this hulking great vehicle blocking up his driveway.
    As to the visit itself, he was happy at any excuse to get back to Janet and confident of her ability to have the household under control, bedridden or not. This proved to be the case. Before he’d got the key turned in the lock, Muriel was at the door to welcome the delegation, whisking off her apron and hiding a dustcloth behind her back.
    “I just thought I’d drop over and tidy around a bit,” she explained to Madoc. “That nurse doesn’t seem to want to lift a hand, just stays up there in the bedroom with Janet. She wouldn’t even let me inside. Took the tea tray right out of my hands, told me Mrs. Rhys was resting and couldn’t be disturbed. Janet’s not all that bad, is she, Madoc?”
    Madoc could have said, “No, and neither is her housekeeping.” The place was spotless and inviting, with its new William Morris wallpapers, stripped woodwork and shining floors, against which their salvage from the barns and attics cut a pleasing figure. Mr. X would be thinking Detective Inspector Rhys must be on the take. He voiced none of these thoughts, but merely said gravely, “We’ll know better after the examination, Muriel.”
    “Wouldn’t happen to be another cup of tea around?” barked Mr. X.
    “Oh yes, Doctor. I’ll boil up the kettle right away. Shall I bring it to you myself, or will you send the nurse down? She might like a little change of air,” Muriel added cattily.
    “We’ll send the nurse,” said the deputy commissioner. “You’ve got all your equipment, Doctor?”
    “Er—oh yes. In my—in here.” Mr. X waggled the large attaché case which he had in his hand and possibly padlocked to his wrist. Madoc never did find out whether the case was part of his disguise or crammed with secret plans and vital documents, because Mr. X never opened it in his presence.
    He was, however, relieved that his superior and Mr. X appeared not only content but even pleased to have Muriel regard them as visiting physicians, more relieved that Dr. X’s request for tea had sped Muriel kitchenward out of earshot, and most relieved of all that Nita Nurney was sticking to Janet like glue.
    No doubt