The Weak-Eyed Bat

“Hello, Mrs. Little,” Prye said in his professional voice. “What seems to be the matter this morning?”

She pressed her hand silently to her heart.

“Any pain at all?”

“I’m all right,” she whispered.

“Any pain?” he repeated, frowning.

“Under my arm. Not really bad.”

“Down your left arm into your fingertips?”

She nodded.

“Have you had it before?”

She nodded again. She seemed to find it difficult to breathe.

“Is it worse this time?”

“No. The same. Please. I just want to lie here. I’m tired.”

Prye drew Tom out into the hall and closed the door. “How long has she been like this?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Just this morning, I guess.”

“Has she had a shock of any kind?”

Tom’s face turned slightly green. “What do you mean? What would give her a shock?”

“She hasn’t heard any bad news, such as a death?”

Tom put his hand on a table to steady himself. “What do you mean, a death? Has anyone died?”

“I don’t know,” Prye said truthfully. “I merely thought one of her relatives may have died.”

Tom’s relief was obvious. “Oh. No, she has no relatives living.”

“See here, Little. I don’t know much about heart diseases, but your wife looks pretty bad to me. I suggest that you call in your regular doctor immediately.”

“We have no regular doctor. She doesn’t want one. She—”

“Get Dr. Innes from Clayton. He’s a good man.”

“She did go to him last month. He told her she wasn’t to get excited. If I called him now when she doesn’t want him, she’ll get excited and—”

“Are you prepared to face a charge of criminal negligence?”

Tom tried to smile. “You’re joking. You don’t think my wife is going to die.”

“I don’t know anything about it,” Prye said irritably. “That’s why I’m telling you to get Innes and do it right away.”

Prye left him standing in the hall, still clutching the table for support.

The front door of Miss Bonner’s house opened so promptly that Prye suspected Wang of spending much of his time at the windows in anticipation of callers. As always, Wang was as serene and golden as the moon.

“Good morning, Dr. Prye,” he said, breaking into smiles. “The new fashion in hats eminently suits your great handsomeness.”

“Thank you, Wang,” Prye said. “I’d like some information from you.”

“For the inestimable Dr. Prye I would remove my right hand.” He coughed. “If necessary.”

“Very good of you, Wang.”

Wang beamed modestly. “They say of me that my deep loyalty comes next only to my vast wisdom and my fathomless patience.”

“How is Miss Bonner this morning?”

“Miss Bonner,” Wang announced, “is in violent conflict with the young gentleman nephew and the big black nurse.”

Prye looked skeptical and Wang added gently: “My impeccable honesty comes next only—”

“I believe you,” Prye said.

Miss Bonner’s voice bounced down the steps: “Get out! Get out, both of you! I feel faint!”

Wang smiled smugly at this timely corroboration of his impeccable honesty.

“Wang! Wang!” Miss Bonner shouted. “Where is that yellow devil? Wang!”

“She wants you,” Prye prompted.

Wang was unmoved. “My vast wisdom tells me it would not be strategic to approach. Perhaps you would care to—?”

“I would not,” Prye said instantly. “I have what I came for.” Wang’s face fell, and Prye said: “Perhaps I’ll need your help later. Keep your ears open.”

“I already possess great information of a private nature.” He added tactfully: “I could not divulge except to persons of discretion with the mouth of a clam like Dr. Prye.”

He bowed Prye out of the door.

In the sitting room of Prye’s cottage a slim, middle-aged man with white hair was reciting Euripides to calm himself. The treatment was effective, for when Prye came in he was able to say in an impersonal voice:

“I’ve come for my diary, Dr. Prye.”

Prye, about to make a reply both innocent and crushing, was waved to silence.

“You may read it if you like,” Professor Frost went on, “if you haven’t already done so. But I should like it back. It contains a number of notes I shouldn’t care to lose. Another small matter: don’t allow Joan’s disappearance to mislead you. This is not the first time my daughter has quit my roof.”

“Without her luggage?”

“Yes.”

“Did she have any money with her?”

“Joan has sources of money other than myself.”

“You don’t want to call in the police?”

Frost shook his head. “No.”

“Suppose I call in the police to investigate the assault on me?”

“That’s your affair. Although I know no reason why Joan should attack you and break Miss Bonner’s spotlight I don’t find it impossible to believe she did. You are wondering at my lack of paternal feeling?”

“Oh no,” Prye said politely.

“There are two reasons, I suppose. I have a mind that is dispassionate by nature and by training. And Joan is not my daughter.” He sat back in his chair, completely at ease. “You know, I’ve always wanted to say that to someone. I suppose vanity prevented me. But it is difficult to retain one’s vanity in the presence of a man who has one’s diary in his pocket. I hope it won’t tempt you to blackmail, Prye.”

“No. Blackmail is too dangerous,” Prye said easily.