A Dead Man in Malta by Michael Pearce

fondly.
    ‘Felix!’ said Mrs Wynne-Gurr. ‘It is time we were going home.’
    ‘Can’t I stay a bit longer, Mum?’
    ‘You’ve trespassed on Mrs Ferreira’s hospitality long enough.’
    ‘Not at all—’ murmured Mrs Ferreira deprecatingly.
    ‘And where is your father?’
    ‘I think he met someone he knew. Someone from the hospital.’
    ‘A doctor?’
    ‘A nurse, I think.’
    ‘A nurse!’
    ‘And a doctor, too,’ said Sophia quickly. ‘I think there was a little party of them. Come to see the races.’
    ‘I do wish your father wouldn’t go off without telling me!’
    ‘Shall I go and look for him?’ asked Felix hopefully.
    ‘Then we would lose you, too!’
    ‘I could go with him,’ said Sophia. ‘Then I could bring him back here. Or to the hotel if you wanted.’
    ‘I do wish he wouldn’t wander off like this. There are things I have to do. Like planning tomorrow’s programme, for instance.’
    ‘I thought you’d done that?’ said Felix.
    ‘Well, of course I have. But I like to go through things in case a late adjustment is necessary.’
    ‘I’ll bring them back very quickly,’ promised Sophia.
    ‘I think I ought to go myself,’ said Mrs Wynne-Gurr.
    ‘No, no, I think that would be a bad idea,’ said Sophia hurriedly. ‘I mean, when you’ve got things to do.’
    ‘If you’re sure you know where to find him—’
    ‘Oh, I’m sure. I’m quite sure!’
    ‘Well, then—if you wouldn’t mind. And, Felix, don’t let yourself be lured away again. You must be back by eight thirty. I’ve arranged an early dinner, especially for you.’
    ‘Gee, thanks!’ said Felix. ‘On my own?’
    ‘We will have ours later. But I think you could do with an early night.’
    ‘Could Sophia have dinner with me?’
    ‘No, no, no—’ began Mrs Ferreira.
    ‘That would be nice,’ said Sophia.
    ‘Surely you don’t need another meal,’ said Mrs Ferreira. ‘After what you’ve just had?’
    ‘They’re all the same,’ said Sophia sotto voce to Felix. ‘Mothers!’
    ‘Just a little one,’ coaxed Felix. ‘After all, I’ve been battening on Mrs Ferreira all day.’
    ‘Yes, indeed. It has been most kind of Mrs Ferreira. Yes, perhaps she could. And that would probably ensure that the pair of you were back at a reasonable time. Eight thirty is the time I have booked.’
    ‘Eight thirty it will be,’ promised Sophia.
    ‘And if you’re sure about finding my husband—’
    ‘I know the person he’s with,’ said Sophia. ‘He’s one of the doctors in Ophthalmics.’
    ‘Oh, good. That would be very kind of you, Sophia. I really do need to go through the programme for tomorrow. I’m spreading us all around the hospital, you see,’ she explained to Chantale. ‘This is a good chance to see a hospital in action. A foreign hospital.’
    ‘Most interesting,’ murmured Chantale.
    ‘And I’ve reasons of my own for wanting to take a good look at some of the practices in that hospital,’ said Mrs Wynne-Gurr grimly.
    ‘I shall be over there myself tomorrow,’ said Seymour. ‘Which ward will Miss de Lissac be in? Perhaps I could look her up.’
    ‘Ward C, I think,’ said Mrs Wynne-Gurr.
    ‘Would you mind if she switched to Ward J?’ asked Seymour. ‘I have a particular reason for asking.’
    ‘That is the ward where one of those poor men died,’ said Mrs Wynne-Gurr.
    ‘Yes,’ said Seymour.
    Mrs Wynne-Gurr smiled.
    ‘I understand,’ she said. ‘I was thinking of going there myself. However, if that is where you are focusing your inquiries, I shall go to the other one—the other one where a patient died.’
    ‘I look forward to comparing notes,’ said Seymour.
    ‘The racing has all stopped,’ said Felix.
    ‘But the drinking hasn’t,’ said Sophia. ‘And that’s where we’ll find your father.’
    ‘I don’t think he’s much of a one for drinking,’ said Felix doubtfully.
    ‘But Dr Cassar is,’ said Sophia, ‘and that’s the doctor he was with the last time I saw