Snobbery With Violence - M. C. Beaton [66]
“What’s wrong with that? My lady says the middle classes have morals.”
“My master might consider her unsuitable for marriage.”
“What! A man who goes about blowing up things! He might think she’s too good for him.”
“I’d better go before I’m caught here,” said Becket. “I’ll let you get on with your sewing.”
“I hate sewing,” said Daisy. “I’d rather type any day.”
After luncheon, Rose hurried to the library, followed by Daisy. She waited impatiently for Harry. The minutes ticked past. Daisy searched the shelves for another bound volume of Young England.
At last Harry entered, followed by Becket. “Any news?” asked Rose eagerly.
“Yes, very much so. Mary Gore-Desmond was not pregnant but she had secondary syphilis.”
“Then all Dr. Perriman needs to do is to produce old Dr. Jenner’s records,” said Rose, “and the police can find out if Hedley has syphilis.”
“Dr. Perriman says that Lord Hedley is not being treated by him for anything and Dr. Jenner’s old records are confidential. Sir Gerald Burke’s doctor in Wimpole Street was telephoned and said the same thing. His patients’ records are confidential.”
“Can’t he appeal to the Home Secretary to get a warrant to seize the records?” asked Rose.
“I think he’s trying. He says if he were requesting the medical records of Mr. Bloggs of The Larches, Jubiliee Road, Peckham, he’s get them Uke a shot. I’m beginning to understand why he’s so bolshie.”
“Where are Dr. Jenner’s records?”
“In Perriman’s surgery at Creinton.”
“Then we’ll just need to get them,” said Rose.
“And how do we do that?” asked Harry.
“Why, you break into his surgery and have a look.”
“My dear lady, I am not a criminal.”
“We could go over to Creinton. You could take me because I am not feeling well, and while the doctor is examining me, you can have a look around.”
“I should think your parents will have something to say if you go driving off with me,” said Harry.
“I won’t ask them. Daisy can run and get my coat and hat. Becket can bring the car round. You can support me out to it and say you are rushing me to the doctor.”
“It’ll look odd.” Harry looked at her uneasily. “Such as us always getting the doctor to come to us—we don’t go to him.”
“Oh, let’s try!” said Rose, betraying her youth by jumping eagerly to her feet. “Do put that book down, Daisy, and fetch my fur coat and the felt hat with the veil.”
As a few of the men had gone off fishing and the rest of the guests were sunk in after-luncheon torpor, they were able to leave without any confrontation.
Creinton was a small market town and the arrival of a motor car caused a great deal of interest. Harry drew up before the doctor’s surgery, which was in the main square, and switched off the engine. “If I plan to burgle the good doctor,” he said, looking at the crowd which had gathered around the motor car, “I had better ride over. This thing attracts too much attention.,,
They entered the waiting-room. There were three people waiting, sunk in that dismal torpor engendered by doctors’ waiting-rooms. This one was particularly dismal with its horsehair-stuffed black leather furniture, black marble clock and brown-painted walls.
A nurse built like a battleship came out. “Mr. Jenkins,” she said, and then her eyes fell on the new arrivals, just as a small tired-looking man rose to his feet. Her heavy face creased into a smile as she surveyed the glory of Rose’s sable fur coat.
“This is Lady Rose Summer,” said Harry. “She has been feeling faint and anxious while we were out for a drive and I really think Dr. Perriman should have a look at her.”
“Of course. Right away. Do sit down, Mr. Jenkins. Come along, my lady.”
Rose wanted to say she would wait, but Harry had a hand under her arm and was urging her forward.
In the surgery, while Rose explained about feeling faint, Harry’s eyes ranged over the room. Along one wall were wooden shelves containing cardboard files. As Dr. Perriman had only recently taken over Dr. Jenner’s practice, they would be all the files of Dr. Jennets patients.
He wandered over to them and then realized