Chapter 9 Chapter nine

Calgary had only been away for a few minutes when Dr. Macmaster had a second visitor, one he knew well, and he received him warmly. "Ah, Xiao Tang, it's nice to see you. Come in and tell me what's on your mind. You have something on your mind. I can tell when your forehead is wrinkled like that." Dr. Donald Craig smiled at him ruefully.He was a handsome, serious young man, serious about himself and his work.The retired old doctor liked his young successor very much, although sometimes he wished that Donald Craig would make it easier to understand a little joke. Craig declined the drink and got straight to the point.

"I'm very worried, Mark." "It's not another vitamin deficiency, I hope," said Dr. McMaster.From his point of view; vitamin deficiency is a good joke.At one point it took a veterinarian to point out to young Craig that a sick kid had severe ringworm in one of his cats before he figured it out. "It has nothing to do with the patient," Donald Craig said. "It's my personal business." Markmaster's expression changed immediately. "Sorry, kid. I'm so sorry. You got bad news?" The young man shook his head. "It's not like that. It's—listen to me, Mark. I've got to talk to someone and you know all of them, you've been here for years, you know everything about them. And I have to know. I Knowing where I am, what I'm facing."

Markmaster's bushy eyebrows rose slowly toward his forehead. "Tell me about your troubles," he said. "It's about the Argyle family. You know--I think everybody knows--Hester Argyle and I--" The old doctor nodded. "There's a nice little rapport," he agrees. "It's an old-fashioned term they use, and it's a good one." "I love her very much," Donald said succinctly, "and I think—oh, I'm sure—she loves me too. And here's what happened." A look of understanding appeared on the old doctor's face. "Ah yes! Jack Argyle's revelation," he said. "It's too late for him, Zhaoxue."

"Yes. That's what makes me feel—I know it's totally wrong to feel that way, but I can't help—it would be better if—if this new piece of evidence hadn't come up." "Oh, you don't seem to be the only one who feels that way," Markmaster said. "As far as I know, everyone from the Commissioner of Police down to the Argyles down to the man who came back from Antarctica to give evidence felt that way." He added, "He was here this afternoon." Donald Craig looked surprised. "Really? Did he say anything?" "What do you expect him to say?"

"Does he know who—" Dr. McMaster shook his head slowly. "No," he said. "He didn't know. How could he—come back from the Great Ocean and see them all for the first time? It seems," he went on, "that no one seems to know." "Yes, yes, I think probably not." "What upsets you so much, Don?" Donald Craig took a deep breath. "Hester called me the night this Calgary fella was over there. She and I were supposed to go to Drymouth after I got off work to hear a lecture on Shakespeare's crime genre." "Ah, news from Dr. Calgary."

"Yes. Yes. She didn't mention him at the time, though. She was very upset. Her voice sounded—I can't tell you what her voice sounded like." "Irish blood," said Markmaster. "She sounded absolutely shocked, terrified. Oh, I can't explain it." "Oh, what did you expect?" asked the doctor. "She's not yet twenty, is she?" "But why is she so upset? I tell you, Mark, she's afraid of something." "Well, yes, oh-yes, probably, I suppose," said Markmaster. "What do you think—what do you think?"

"What's more relevant," Markmaster pointed out, "is what you think." The young man said angrily: "I don't think I'd even think about it if I wasn't a doctor. She's my woman and my woman can't do anything wrong. But the fact—" "Yes—go ahead. You'd better say it all." "You know, I know some of Hester's visions. She—she was a victim of early insecurity," "Yes," said Markmaster. "That's what we say nowadays." "She hasn't had time to recover properly. She was tortured at the time of the murder by a feeling that is so natural to a teenage girl - hating authority - trying to escape the breathless world that is responsible for so much harm in this moment. She wanted to rebel, to run away. She told me all this herself. She ran away from home and joined a fourth-rate touring theater company. I think her mother was very reasonable under the circumstances. She suggested Hester goes to London to study hard if she wants to work in acting. But that's not what Hester wants. Running away from home and acting is really just a pose. She doesn't really want to be entertained. Stage training, or serious acting work. She just wants to show that she can stand on her own. The Argyles don't want to bully her anyway. They give her a decent stipend."

"It's very clever of them to do that," Markmaster said. "Then she had a foolish affair with a middle-aged man in the troupe. Finally she learned for herself that he was no good. Mrs. Argyle went to deal with him, and Hester went home." "She's been taught a lesson, as they used to say when I was younger," Markmaster said. "But, of course, some people like to be taught. Hester doesn't." Donald Craig went on anxiously: "She's still full of smoldering resentment; for she has to admit secretly, if not openly, that her mother is right, which makes it worse; she has to admit that she's not actress material, that the man she's headstrongly in love with isn't Worthy of her love. And anyway, she didn't really love him. 'Mother knows best.' That's always been a hard thing for young people."

"Yes," said Markmaster. "That's one of poor Mrs. Argyle's troubles, and though she never thinks of it that way herself, the truth is she's almost always right, and she really knows best. If she's one of those debts, losing her keys, missing her train, making some One of those women who needs someone to help her with something stupid, then all her family will love her a lot more. It's sad and cruel to think about it, but that's how life is. And she's not a smart enough woman to know how to use disguises To get her way. She's proud, self-satisfied, you know. Proud of her own ability and judgment, very, very confident. That's hard to compete with when you're young."

"Oh, I know," Donald Craig said. "I know all this. It's just because I know that I feel—I suspect—" He paused. Mark Master put it mildly: "It's better for me to say it for you, don't I, Xiao Tang? You are afraid that your Hester heard the quarrel between her mother and Jack, and she became impulsive after hearing it, perhaps, in a momentary impulse to rebel against authority." Go down, defy her mother's all-powerful, high-handed dictatorship, go into that room, take that poker, and kill her. That's what you're afraid of, isn't it?"

The young man nodded sadly. "Not really. I don't really believe it is, but--but I feel--I feel it might happen. I don't think Hester is so calm, so collected--I think she's young, yes. Unsure of myself, prone to sudden insanity. I looked at the family, and didn't think any of them could do that, until I thought of Hester. And then—then I couldn't be sure. " "I understand," said Dr. Macmaster, "yes, I understand." "I don't really blame her," Craig said quickly. "I don't think the poor child really knew what she was doing. I can't say it was murder. Just an emotional challenge. An act of rebellion, a desire to be free, a conviction that she would never be free unless—unless her mother ceased to exist, "Perhaps the last sentence is true enough," said MacMaster, "the only two motives, and a rather peculiar one. Not one that appears strong enough in the eyes of the law. Hope Liberty. Freedom from the strongman. Just because none of them inherited a lot of money from Mrs. Argyle's death, the law would not think they had a motive. But I guess even financial control is largely in the hands of Ah Mrs Gill, through her influence over the trustees. Yes, her death set them all free, yes. Not just Hester, boy, Leo was free to marry another woman, Mary was free To take care of her husband the way she likes, Michael is free to live the life he likes to live, and even little black Martina might want to be free, not to see her sitting quietly in the library." "I had to come and talk to you," Donald said. "I want to know what you think, whether you think--it might be true." "About Hester?" "yes." "I think so. It's possible, true," said MacMaster slowly. "I don't know." "You think it's possible, like I said?" "Yes. I suppose what you're thinking is not fanciful. It's possible. But by no means sure, Donald." The young man let out a trembling sigh. "But be sure, Mark. It's one thing I really feel is necessary. I've got to know. If Hester tells me, if she tells me herself, then—then it'll be all right, and we'll get married as soon as possible. I'll take care of her." "It's a good thing Inspector Hush can't hear what you're saying," said Markmaster dryly. "I'm a law-abiding citizen in principle," Donald said, "but you know very well, Mark, how psychological evidence is handled in court. In my opinion, this was an unfortunate accident, not cold-blooded murder." , or even bloody murder." "You're in love with that girl," said Markmaster. "I'm telling you something intimate, remember." "I understand that," Markmaster said. "What I'm saying is that if Hester tells me, I know, we'll forget everything about the past together. But she has to tell me. I can't live my life without knowing." "You mean you don't intend to marry her under the shadow of that possibility?" "If you were me, would you want it?" "I don't know. In my day, if this had happened to me and I fell in love with that girl, I might have believed she was innocent." "Innocent or guilty doesn't really matter that much, what matters is that I know." "Then if she really killed her mother, are you very happy to marry her and live happily ever after, as they say?" "yes." "Don't you believe it!" said MacMaster. "You'll keep wondering if the bitterness in your coffee is purely from the coffee, and always think that the poker is a little too heavy in the grate. And she'll see what you're thinking. It won't work... "