Frankness, Mr Entwhistle thought - or at least a modified frankness. To say that suspicions had arisen because of a haphazard suggestion thrown out by a silly woman would be ill-advised. Dr Larraby had not known Cora.

Mr Entwhistle cleared his throat and plunged bravely.

"I want to consult you on a very delicate matter," he said. "You may be offended, but I sincerely hope not. You are a sensible man and you will realise, I'm sure, that a - er - preposterous suggestion is best dealt with by finding a reasonable answer and not by condemning it out of hand. It concerns my client, the late Mr Abernethie. I'll ask you my question flat out. Are you certain, absolutely certain, that he died what is termed a natural death?"

Dr Larraby's good-humoured, rubicund middle-aged face turned in astonishment on his questioner.

"What on earth - Of course he did. I gave a certificate, didn't I? If I hadn't been satisfied -"

Mr Entwhistle cut in adroitly:

"Naturally, naturally. I assure you that I am not assuming anything to the contrary. But I would be glad to have your positive assurance - in face of the - er - rumours that are flying around."

"Rumours? What rumours?"

"One doesn't know quite how these things start," said Mr Entwhistle mendaciously. "But my feeling is that they should be stopped - authoritatively, if possible."

"Abernethie was a sick man. He was suffering from a disease that would have proved fatal within, I should say, at the earliest, two years. It might have come much sooner. His son's death had weakened his will to live, and his powers of resistance. I admit that I did not expect his death to come so soon, or indeed so suddenly, but there are precedents - plenty of precedents. Any medical man who predicts exactly when a patient will die, or exactly how long he will live, is bound to make a fool of himself. The human factor is always incalculable. The weak have often unexpected powers of resistance, the strong sometimes succumb."

"I understand all that. I am not doubting your diagnosis. Mr Abernethie was, shall we say (rather melodramatically, I'm afraid) under sentence of death. All I'm asking you is, is it quite impossible that a man, knowing or suspecting that he is doomed, might of his own accord shorten that period of life? Or that someone else might do it for him?"

Dr Larraby frowned.

"Suicide, you mean? Abernethie wasn't a suicidal type."

"I see. You can assure me, medically speaking, that such a suggestion is impossible."

The doctor stirred uneasily.

"I wouldn't use the word impossible. After his son's death life no longer held the interest for Abernethie that it had done. I certainly don't feel that suicide is likely - but I can't say that it's impossible."

"You are speaking from the psychological angle. When I said medically, I really meant: do the circumstances of his death make such a suggestion impossible?"