Move Your Blooming Corpse by D. E. Ireland

then. I think we’re done here.” Higgins rose to his feet. “Thank you for speaking with us, Superintendent.”
    Cullen walked around the desk, and the two men shook hands. They watched as Eliza took a deep breath and began the laborious process of getting out of her chair. Higgins wanted to applaud when she finally stood up.
    â€œOne of our attendants will escort you to Mr. Hewitt.” Cullen glanced at the wall clock. “Ten o’clock, so he should be in the chapel. Mr. Hewitt prays at this time.”
    When they reached the reception area, Cullen signaled a stocky young man in a white uniform. “Stevens will take you to Mr. Hewitt. Oh, and as you walk through the building, please take note of the carved wood paneling and stained glass windows. As I said, there aren’t many asylums that are so beautiful as ours.”
    â€œYou have convinced me, Dr. Cullen,” Eliza said with a gracious nod. “If I ever become a lunatic, I shall ask to be taken here straightaway.”
    *   *   *
    Since Hewitt was not in the chapel, the recreation hall, or even his private cell, Higgins feared the patients weren’t as closely observed as Dr. Cullen claimed. And Eliza moved so slowly, it took almost an hour before the erstwhile Mr. Hewitt was discovered in one of the Day Rooms. Apparently he had been reading there since breakfast and barely looked up from his Bible as they approached.
    Stevens tapped Hewitt on the shoulder. “Your sister and solicitor have come to visit you.”
    Hewitt gave them a quick, incurious glance before he resumed reading.
    â€œHe likes his Bible, he does,” the attendant said. “Maybe if you just sit here nice and quiet, he’ll look up and say a few words.” He gestured to the settees and armchairs scattered about, all of them padded in leather or carpet. “You’ll have a bit of privacy. Everyone else is in the recreation hall or with the doctors. Have a nice chat, and don’t worry. I’ll be right by the door to keep an eye on things.”
    Higgins and Eliza waited until Stevens sat down in a bentwood chair by the entrance. He was far enough away that any conversation would not be overheard.
    â€œMr. Hewitt,” Eliza said in a soft voice. “May we speak with you?”
    No response. Hewitt sat in the middle of a green leather sofa, but Higgins thought the man might grow nervous if they sat next to him. He grabbed a nearby settee and dragged it over. After Higgins sat down, he gestured for Eliza to sit. She sighed and once again made her descent.
    â€œDo you remember me?” Higgins asked. “We spoke at Ascot.”
    â€œThe man with the notebook,” Hewitt said, his eyes still fixed on the Bible.
    Eliza and Higgins exchanged excited looks. “Yes, that was me.”
    â€œBest not write in your book here.” Hewitt kept his eyes on the Bible. “They’ll take it from you.”
    â€œWe heard the police have your diary now,” Higgins said.
    Hewitt’s jaw tightened. “They had no right. The diary belongs to me. My thoughts were in the diary. They stole my thoughts.” He finally raised his head. “It’s unforgivable.”
    â€œPerhaps we can persuade the police to return it to you.” Eliza ignored Higgins, who shook his head. “They might once they’re done with it. I mean, once the case is solved.” She made a face at Higgins. “Why are you looking at me that way? I bet I’ll convince Jack to give it back to him.”
    Higgins turned to Hewitt. “Please ignore her. That skirt makes all the blood rush to her head.”
    â€œBut why should I ignore my sister?” Hewitt smirked. “Except my real sister is old enough to be this young lady’s mother. A shame no one has informed the staff here.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Who are you besides a pretty girl? Do you wish me ill?”
    â€œOh no,