The Man of Gold by Evelyn Hervey

physician spoke first.
    ‘Your domestic has failed to name me,’ he said. ‘Inspector Redderman, Harrow Road Station.’
    Miss Unwin looked at him.
    He gave her at once the impression of being a man pared down to essentials. Later, thinking about him as she was to have cause enough to do, she was unable to account exactly for the vividness of her first strong feeling. It might have been, she thought, the clothes he wore, a suit of blue serge on which not a quarter-inch of material appeared to have been wasted. Or it might have been the set of his features where the flesh, again, seemed to have been distributed so as to serve its function of covering the bones beneath just to the necessary point and no more. Or itmight have been the hair on his head which was trimmed back as far as it could be and still remain hair.
    Yet none of these things had particularly struck her at first sight. However, the impression she had received was strong and it made her, though she could not in logic see why, somehow all the more apprehensive about the man.
    It was characteristic of him, she later thought, that once he had told them who he was he added not a word more.
    It was left to old Doctor Sumsion to reveal the purpose of their joint visit. And this, all too evidently, he was finding it hard to do.
    He coughed once or twice. He darted a look at Miss Unwin which indicated both that he wished she was not in the room and that he was doubtful about just how he could rid himself of her presence.
    Seeing his dilemma she felt bound to offer once again to go-
    ‘Sir,’ she said to Richard Partington, ‘I believe Doctor Sumsion must have private business with you. I will take my leave.’
    ‘No,’ Richard Partington almost shouted. ‘No, Miss Unwin, please, I particularly wish you to remain, whatever it may be that Doctor Sumsion and this gentleman have to say.’
    He paused, then grabbed at a thought.
    ‘Er – It is in the interest of my girls that you should be fully aware of the circumstances, of any circumstances, don’t you see?’
    ‘Very well, sir. If it is in the children’s interest.’
    Miss Unwin turned to the doctor and without actually saying anything made it clear that he had now to begin.
    He coughed again.
    ‘Very good, Mr Partington, if that is your wish,’ he said. ‘But I must warn you, however, that what I have to say is – is of the most intimate nature.’
    But say it, for heaven’s sake, Miss Unwin thought.
    ‘No, no. Speak, speak,’ Richard said.
    ‘Very well. Then what I have to tell you is simply this: I have myself been conducting the post-morten examination on your father’s body. Such work is something in which I have always taken the keenest interest. The examination is now completed. It was necessary to make certain tests on – organs removed. That is what has accounted for a certain delay.’
    ‘But what has been found?’ Richard barked out, impatience bringing the blood back to his ashen cheeks.
    ‘Arsenic’
    It was the laconic Inspector Redderman who, at last, spoke the word.
    ‘Arsenic?’ Richard said. ‘Poison? Then it is confirmed what you suspected, Doctor? My father was poisoned?’
    ‘Yes,’ the doctor answered with a tremendous expression of gravity. ‘Yes, I regret to tell you that there can be no doubt. I found arsenic in your father’s body after carrying out my tests more than once, and its presence absolutely confirmed my diagnosis at the time of his death. It was not due to natural causes.’
    He drew himself up with a little puff of pride.
    ‘I must therefore ask you, sir,’ Inspector Redderman added quietly, ‘to accompany me to the police office where I shall put certain questions to you.’
    It was said. And said briefly and tersely as possible, Miss Unwin thought. No wrapping up of words could now disguise that the police suspicions rested firmly on old Mr Partington’s son. On Richard.
    On the man for whom she felt – it was only at this instant that she was