Free Ways and Means by Henry Cecil Page B

d’you agree to my suggestion?’
    ‘I leave everything to you.’
    The necessary letter was written and to Mr Mallet’s surprise Mr Drewe replied that Mrs Merridew was quite prepared to be examined by a psychologist. In consequence, a few days later Dr Shrewsbury Cannon called at Nicholas’s flat.
    ‘I’ve come to see Mrs Merridew,’ he said.
    ‘Come in. She’ll see you in here. Treat her gently, please, Doctor. We’re very worried about her.’
    ‘Of course.’
    Shortly afterwards Elizabeth came into the room. ‘Please go away,’ she said to Nicholas and Petula. ‘I’d like to see the doctor alone.’ They went out. Elizabeth turned to the doctor.
    ‘Hullo,’ she said — but it was not just an ordinary ‘hullo’. There was everything in it which Elizabeth could put, and that was saying a good deal. The doctor began to wonder if he was wise to let Nicholas and Petula go away. However, he quickly recovered.
    ‘Well — now,’ he said. ‘What’s the trouble?’
    ‘Trouble?’ said Elizabeth, opening her large eyes. ‘Trouble? Can’t a woman leave her husband without being thought to be ill?’
    ‘Would you mind telling me why you left him?’
    ‘Are you a married man?’
    ‘I am.’
    ‘Well, I thought I wanted a change. Don’t you ever?’ and she looked at him.
    ‘I don’t feel called on to answer your questions,’ said the doctor a little brusquely. He was extremely happily married but few men could have looked at Elizabeth, when she was really trying, without feeling the need of a little moral support.
    ‘It looks as though I’ve been wasting my time,’ he went on.
    ‘It does,’ said Elizabeth and looked at the ground. Dr Shrewsbury Cannon’s report to Mr Mallet was short:
    ‘There is nothing whatever the matter with Mrs Merridew, except that she is very beautiful and knows it. She’s not frightened of anyone.’ He might fairly have added that, on the contrary, he had been a little frightened of her.
    ‘Good news, as far as it goes,’ said Mr Mallet, when Basil next called on him. ‘The doctor entirely supports what you say. That, combined with Drewe’s letter, gives us something to go upon. Why should he lie about her condition if he’s got nothing to hide? On the other hand, from what the doctor, told me on the phone — you don’t mind my saying this, I hope — it would seem that your wife is more inclined to entice than be enticed.’
    ‘That’s just her little way,’ said Basil. ‘I’ve been very stupid, I know. I ought to have kicked him out months ago, but I couldn’t believe there was anything wrong. Why shouldn’t he give her presents? We’ve lived practically as one family for years. Now I come to think of it, though, the presents have gradually become of a more intimate kind, if you understand what I mean. Clever devil. He’s always done it openly. Handbags, umbrellas, hats via nylons to other underclothes. I confess I did think it a bit odd when he brought home a brassiere for her — but, even then, I couldn’t suspect him or her. D’you know, I even made a joke about it, ass that I was. How they must have laughed.’
    ‘You say “they”.’
    ‘Well — she’s grown up, you know, and I can’t pretend she’s blameless, but she’d never have gone if Nicholas hadn’t persuaded her.’
    ‘What d’you suppose Mrs Drewe thinks about it?’
    ‘Oh, they’ve drawn the wool over her eyes good and proper, no doubt. She’s a complete nit-wit and adores Nicholas. She’ll do anything he says and accept anything he does without question.’
    ‘Well, it isn’t going to be easy, but we have got some sort of a case to go on. Have you those letters you said you’d try to find?’ These were letters which Elizabeth had written (or was supposed to have written) during temporary enforced separations.
    ‘I’ve only been able to find one. It was written when I had to go North on business — only for a few days — about a year ago. Is that recent