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By Root 640 0

again, and he didn’t want her to get suspicious. The desk was littered with piles of paper. There were brown envelopes, just like the one Mrs Langford had sent to Johnny, and leaflets everywhere, some in English, some in French. All of them seemed to be about TB. Many were annotated in Mrs Langford’s snail-shell handwriting. It reassured him that he was in the right place. This definitely was her office. What a relief! With luck, it wouldn’t be long before the police arrived and she could tell them the truth about the murder. Dr Howell would be arrested, and Mrs Langford and his mother would both be safe. Johnny leaned over to read the sheet of paper that was sticking out of the typewriter. It was headed The War Against Tuberculosis. On the next line it said:

Future Mothers! Young Housewives! Did you know that Tuberculosis kills 25 per cent of infants born to parents with the disease, or growing up in infected surroundings?

Johnny turned the wheel at the side of the machine so that more of the writing would show.

It also kills, sooner or later, many children born of healthy parents, and brought up in healthy households.

But did you know that there is something you can do to protect your children?

You can VACCINATE them.

He recognized the style. He had read claims like that about everything from tonic wine to disinfectant. He guessed that Mrs Langford was typing an advertisement. Dr Howell must be making her do it as part of his plan to sell the BCG vaccine. Johnny wanted to read more.

Then he heard a voice outside. It was Mrs Langford. She had come, as she had promised, to meet him there. He’d just have to explain that he’d climbed through the window because the door was locked. She would understand. But as she turned the key he heard someone else; and he recognized that voice too. Dr Howell was with her. There was no way he would forgive Johnny for breaking in. There was only one place to hide. Johnny turned off the lamp and slid down from the chair. As Mrs Langford switched on the main light, he crawled into the arched footwell under her desk. It smelled of furniture polish, perfume and shoes.

‘What’s that window doing open?’ said Mrs Langford, striding across the room. ‘I could have sworn I closed it earlier.’

Dr Howell laughed. ‘Maybe Professor Campbell’s been in. You know what a demon he is for the healing power of fresh air.’

Johnny was surprised at how friendly they sounded. Mrs Langford chatted happily as she shut the window, ‘Well, I’m not ill,’ she said, ‘and I don’t like a draught.’

‘I see you’ve got the leaflets done,’ said Dr Howell.

Mrs Langford sat at the typewriter. Johnny had to squash himself even deeper into the tight space to make sure she couldn’t feel him with her feet. He hoped she’d have the presence of mind to say nothing if she realized he was there. He listened hard. He couldn’t see anything now. Mrs Langford’s legs blocked off what little light had come through the arch, and the footwell had no opening on the side facing the door. But at least that meant no one could see Johnny.

‘Here you are,’ said Mrs Langford. ‘I’ve just finished the last translation.’ The typewriter gave a mechanical ripping noise as she pulled out the page. ‘You see. There’s nothing to worry about. Everything’s ready to go.’

‘Just as well,’ said Dr Howell, sounding anxious. ‘Time’s running out. Are you certain that absolutely everyone will be in the theatre?’

‘Of course. That’s the whole point, isn’t it? It took me ages to talk Professor Campbell into including the entire staff. Mind you, I convinced myself in the end. It’s silly to have a beautiful theatre and not to make use of it. And it’s true: nothing will make the children laugh louder than the sight of all the doctors and nurses dressed up in silly costumes. Old Campbell thinks you’ve made a real sacrifice, offering to be the only doctor on call. You’ve done yourself some good there.’

Johnny was confused. Why was Mrs Langford being so nice to Dr Howell? Why did she seem so relaxed, and he so nervous? It sounded as if they were planning to do something