"That's why I was examining her," said Reggie sweetly.
The little man laughed. "A general practitioner is not much use to her now. Rather beyond you, isn't it?"
"Well, I've not made up my mind," Reggie said.
"Don't worry. Don't worry." He waved Reggie off, but Reggie did not go. "You'll only be in our way, you know. We'll let you know if we want you at the inquest. Just for formal evidence." Still Reggie did not move. "I am the divisional surgeon, sir," said the little man loudly.
"I was wondering who you were," Reggie murmured.
The little man swung round. "We'll have the room cleared, inspector," he said.
The detective inspector, who looked more like a policeman than seemed possible, strode heavily forward. "Hope you're not meaning to give trouble, doctor," he frowned. "Or I'll have to take steps."
"Fancy!" Reggie said. "Well, look where you're going." He walked across to the window and looked out at the roses.
"Clear out, please." The inspector followed him.
"Zeal, all zeal," Reggie murmured, and went.
There were two doors to the room. He did not use that by which they had come, but the other. He happened to know that it opened into Birdie Bolton's bedroom.
