The Blood-Dimmed Tide by Rennie Airth Page A

at tea-time, when he had joined the others on the terrace, the doctor had remained in his room all afternoon, working. Apologizing for his absence, he’d explained that he had a paper to prepare which he was due to present at a symposium on his return to Berlin.
    ‘The subject to be discussed will be certain aspects of psychopathology, in particular the treatment of patients who indulge in abnormally aggressive and irresponsible behaviour, a difficult question on which to air one’s views these days when so many of one’s fellow citizens display little else.’
    He’d accompanied the remark with a characteristic wry smile, but his words had struck a chord with the chief inspector, echoing as they did a discussion that had taken place earlier, at lunch, when Weiss had spoken at some length about the situation in Germany and his fears for the future. Though aware from newspaper accounts of the turmoil prevailing in that country, so recently an enemy of his own, Sinclair had listened with dismay as the Maddens’ foreign visitor drew a picture, blacker than he could have imagined, of a society racked by civil strife and teetering on the brink of political collapse.
    Most disturbing of all had been an account given by the doctor of an assault by brown-shirted storm troopers on a group of communist sympathizers which he had witnessed by chance near his consulting rooms in Berlin. Evidently distressed by the memory, he’d described in vivid images the brazen behaviour of the attackers and their indifference to the bodies of the injured which they’d left lying in the street, their blood drying on the cobblestones.
    ‘When civilized man turns so readily to savagery, one can only fear the worst.’ Weiss had fixed his dark eyes on Sinclair as he’d uttered these words, seeing him perhaps as one of the law’s guardians. ‘What restraints are there left, one wonders? Of what crimes is he capable?’
    The analyst had made no secret of his anxiety for his family and his desire, ever more pressing, to quit Germany.
    ‘All the signs are that my people are no longer welcome there. At any rate, not with those whose voices are loudest and whose hands are already reaching for power.’
    Perceiving that it was not his Austrian nationality Weiss was referring to, Sinclair had felt a flush of discomfiture, and the memory of it served to check his first impulse now, which was to return to the theme of their lunchtime conversation. He wanted to question the analyst further. But having poured him a drink and seen to it that he was settled comfortably by the fire before resuming his own seat, he hesitated, and it was Weiss, his pale face made bright by the blaze, who broke the silence between them.
    ‘Tell me, Chief Inspector, this case you are dealing with, the one to do with the murdered girl, is it causing you much anxiety?’
    Though momentarily startled by the question, Sinclair realized at once that Madden must have discussed the assault with the doctor, something Weiss himself confirmed the next moment.
    ‘I ask because John seemed so concerned when he told me about it the other evening. Clearly it has disturbed him a great deal. We did not discuss it at length. Helen was there, and I sensed she was upset by the subject.’
    ‘She thinks he’s too caught up with the case,’ Sinclair grunted. He’d got over his surprise. ‘She’s never forgotten how close he came to death all those years ago. She doesn’t want him involved in anything like it again. But John won’t let go of this.’
    Weiss nodded. ‘He sees it as his duty, what he owes to others, something presented to him, which he did not seek, but accepts. Our friend is like the Good Samaritan: he cannot pass by on the other side. It is one of the reasons Helen loves him, of course, why she prizes him so. This makes it difficult for them both.’
    The shadows in the room had been deepening while they were talking and Sinclair rose to switch on a pair of table lamps. He