But Winter's
prompt use of a chance opening, and the restraint which cut off the
investigation before the girl could suspect any ulterior motive,
displayed a technique which the Sussex Constabulary had few opportunities
of acquiring.
"Now, Miss Martin," began Winter, "if ever you have the misfortune to
fall ill--touch wood, please--and call in a doctor, you'll tell him the
facts, eh?"
"Why consult him at all, if I don't?" she smiled.
"Exactly. To-day I'm somewhat in the position of a Harley-street
specialist, summoned to assist an eminent local practitioner in Dr.
Fowler. That's a sort of gentle preliminary, leading up to the
disagreeable duty of putting some questions of a personal nature. What
you may answer will not go beyond ourselves. I promise you that. You will
not be quoted, or requested to prove your statements. Such a thing would
be absurd. If I were really a doctor, and you needed my advice, you might
easily describe your symptoms all wrong. It would be my business to
listen, and deduce the truth, and I would never dream of rating you for
having misled me. You see my point?"
"Yes, but Mr. Win--Mr. Franklin, I know nothing whatever about
the murder.
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