Inspector Queen’s Own Case

She remembered his running into the nursery at Sarah Humffrey’s scream, the look on his face as he caught sight of the body in the crib, the terrible frozen look, like the risus sardonicus of tetanus. For fully a minute that look had held possession of him as he watched her trying to restore the function of the dead lungs, trying to coax the flaccid little rib cage into an elasticity it would never have again, trying to revive a tiny heart that had stopped beating long ago.

Then he said, “He’s really dead.”

And she had said, “Phone Dr. Wicks, please.”

And he had picked up his wife and carried her out, and a moment later Jessie had heard him phoning Dr. Wicks in a voice as frozen as his look had been.

After a while Jessie had stopped working the cold baby arms, covered the body, and gone to Mrs. Humffrey. Her husband was trying to revive her.

“I’ll do it,” Jessie had said, and he had gone out with long strides, in a release of stopped-up energy, as if his need for expending himself were overwhelming. As she worked over the unconscious woman she had heard him talking to the servants in a strangely considerate tone, and there were weepy female sounds and a sudden unbelievable shout from him — the patrician who never raised his voice! — a shout of pure rage, and immediately shocked silence. After that he had merely prowled downstairs and up, in the room and out, until Dr. Wicks arrived.

Jessie went up to them and leaned against the wall, too.

“Oh, Miss Sherwood.” Dr. Wicks looked relieved. He was a fashionable little man with a sun-blotched scalp. “How is Mrs. Humffrey?”

“She’s conscious, Doctor.”

“I’d better have a look at her. You’re going to have to handle your wife very carefully for a while, Mr. Humffrey.”

“Yes,” Alton Humffrey said, rousing himself. “Yes.”

Dr. Wicks picked up his bag and walked quickly into the master bedroom. The gaunt man unfolded himself and followed. Jessie shuffled after, her feet dragging. A wave of weakness surged over her, and for a moment the hall rocked. But she steadied herself and went into the bedroom.

Sarah Humffrey was weeping now, her bony shoulders jerking like something at the end of a fisherman’s line. Dr. Wicks was saying as if to a child, “That’s all right, Mrs. Humffrey, don’t mind us at all. It’s nature’s way of relieving tension. A good cry will make you feel better.”

“My baby,” she sobbed.

“It’s terribly unfortunate, a great tragedy. But these things do happen. I’ve seen babies go like that in the best-regulated nurseries.”

“The pillow,” she wept. “I put the pillow there to protect him, Doctor. Oh, God, how was I to know?”

“There’s no point in dwelling on it, Mrs. Humffrey, is there? What you need now is sleep.”

“I shouldn’t have let Miss Sherwood go off. She offered to stay. But no, I had to pretend I knew all about taking care of him...”

“Mrs. Humffrey, if you’re going to carry on like this—”

“I loved him,” the woman sobbed.

Dr. Wicks glanced at Jessie as if for professional support. But Jessie was standing there like a stone, stuck fast, wondering how to say it, wondering if it could be true, knowing it was true and loathing the knowledge.

I’m going to be sick any minute, she thought. Sick...

“I think,” Dr. Wicks said with a show of firmness, “we’ll have to give you something.”

Jessie heard him with surprise. Did it show that much? But then she saw that he was still talking to Mrs. Humffrey.

“No!” the woman screamed. “No, no, no!”

“All right, Mrs. Humffrey,” the doctor said hastily. “Just quiet down. Lie back...”

“Dr. Wicks,” her husband said.

“Yes, Mr. Humffrey.”

“I assume you’re intending to report this to the County Coroner’s office?” The millionaire had sheathed himself like a sword.

“Yes. A formality, of course—”

“I needn’t tell you how abhorrent all this is to me. I have some influence in Hartford, Doctor. If you’ll be good enough to co-operate—”

“Well, now, I don’t know, Mr. Humffrey,” Dr. Wicks said cautiously. “I have a sworn duty, you know.”

“I understand.” Jessie had the feeling that he was holding himself in the scabbard by sheer will. “Still, there are sometimes considerations above a sworn duty, Dr. Wicks. In exceptional cases, let us say. Haven’t you found it so in your practice?”

“I can’t say I have,” the physician replied in a stiffening tone. “Whatever it is you have in mind, Mr. Humffrey, I’m afraid the answer must be no.”

The millionaire’s mouth tightened. “All I’m asking is that Mrs. Humffrey and I be spared the ordeal of a coroner’s inquiry. It will mean newspaper reporters, an inquest, public testimony. It’s intolerable to have to face that, Doctor. Certainly my wife can’t in her condition. As her physician, surely you know that.”

“I’m as unhappy about this misfortune as you are, Mr. Humffrey. But what can I do?”

“It was an accident! Are people to be crucified in public because of an accident?”

Jessie Sherwood thought if they did not stop she would scream.

“I know it was an accident, Mr. Humffrey. But you’re placing me—”