The Cases of Hildegarde Withers (3 page)

“But
my
dear
lady!”
Severance
flashed
a
wide
friendly
smile.
“You
would
be
insane
to
have
anything
done
to
your
face.
Character
is
rare
these
days.
And
who
wants
to
look
like
everyone
else?”

“I
wouldn’t
mind
—
”
began
Miss
Withers.
Then
she
saw
that
the
doctor
was
looking
across
the
room,
where
Corinne
was
signalling
for
help.
She
seemed
surrounded
by
a
brawny
fullback,
a
tanned
youth
with
big
pawing
hands
and
a
loud
laugh.
This
would,
of
course,
be
Vaughan
Hemple.

“Excuse
me,”
said
Dr.
Severance
quickly.
When
he
was
gone
Miss
Withers
felt
quite
deserted.
Some
men
have
that
quality,
blast
them.

It
was
a
quality
unshared
by
her
dinner
companion,
a
frog-faced,
completely
bald
person
who
turned
out
to
be
Dr.
Parkhill,
Severance’s
office
associate.
“Oh,
yes,”
he
said
with
a
smile.
“I’m
his
junior.
Some
men
would
resent
being
second
in
command
to
a
younger
man.
But
that’s
fiddlesticks.
Paul
Severance
can
teach
anybody.
He
can
take
the
skin
off
your
stomach
—
”

“Really!”
gasped
Miss
Withers,
conscious
that
all
conversation
had
stopped
and
everyone
was
looking
at
her.

“—
and
move
it
up
to
replace
any
destroyed
skin
on
your
face.
Wonderful
in
treatment
of
burns.”

Vaughan
Hemple
cut
in,
with
a
somewhat
bitter
note
in
his
voice.
“But
after
all,
isn’t
it
a
sort
of
silly
job
for
a
grown
man
in
times
like
this
—
fixing
up
women
to
look
younger
than
they
are,
and
all
that?”

Somebody
hushed
him,
but
young
Hemple
had
downed
a
couple
of
glasses
of
wine,
and
an
inner
bitterness
seemed
to
rise
up
within
him.
“Seems
to
me,
this
is
a
time
for
a
man
to
get
in
and
pitch
…
”
He
was
looking
pointedly
at
Severance.

“Vaughan
just
got
his
questionnaire
from
the
draft
board,”
His
mother’s
voice
came,
proud
and
a
bit
quavery.
“I
suppose,
Dr.
Severance,
you’ll
be
in
uniform
any
day?”

Severance
said
nothing.
He
was
looking
across
the
table
at
Corinne,
and
a
slow
reddish
flush
rose
along
his
neck.
There
was
a
dead
silence
for
a
moment,
and
then
everyone
jumped
as
the
distant
ringing
of
the
doorbell
came
with
dramatic
suddenness.

Mrs.
Lapham
dropped
her
fork,
and
looked
at
Miss
Withers,
who
in
turn
looked
at
Dr.
Severance.
She
wondered
just
what
she
should
do
to
prevent
him
from
being
murdered,
supposing
this
was
the
Pender
girl
and
she
came
rushing
into
the
room
blazing
away
with
the
stolen
gun.
One
couldn’t
very
well
ask
him
to
get
under
the
table
…

But
the
butler
appeared,
to
announce
with
shocked
horror
in
his
voice:
“A
policeman,
madam!”
He
was
only
a
breathless
step
ahead
of
the
policeman,
who
turned
out
to
be
Inspector
Oscar
Piper.

Mrs.
Lapham
rose
quickly.
“But
really,
Inspector!
I
thought
it
was
clearly
understood
—
”

He
nodded
wearily.
“Sorry,
ma’am.
Won’t
be
a
minute.”
He
came
closer
to
the
table,
looked
along
the
faces
of
the
guests.
Finally
he
passed
Miss
Withers
without
even
a
friendly
wink,
and
paused
before
Dr.
Severance.
“You’re
wanted
at
your
office,
Doctor.”

Severance
looked
extremely
blank.
“What
for?”

“You’ll
understand
when
you
get
there.”
The
Inspector
flashed
open
his
palm,
with
the
gold
badge
cupped
in
it.
The
doctor
slowly
rose
to
his
feet,
turned
as
if
to
say
something
to
Corinne,
and
then
—
with
the
Inspector’s
hand
on
his
arm
—
went
toward
the
door,
where
two
plain-clothes
men
took
over
and
hustled
him
away.

Inspector
Piper
turned
back
toward
the
dinner
party,
rocked
back
on
his
heels
and
surveyed
them.
But
Miss
Withers
had
no
eyes
for
him.
She
was
watching
Corinne
Lapham,
frozen
in
her
chair.
She
did
not
even
seem
to
realize
that
Vaughan
Hemple
was
patting
her
shoulder.

Mrs.
Lapham
started
to
explode,
but
the
Inspector
held
up
his
hand.
“Save
your
breath,
ma’am.
Mind
if
I
sit
down?”
He
sank
into
the
chair
Severance
had
just
vacated.
“You
may
as
well
know,
folks,”
he
said
conversationally,
“that
when
Dr.
Severance
gets
down
to
his
office
my
boys
are
going
to
show
him
the
body
of
a
girl
named
Elsie
Pender,
stretched
out
on
the
floor
behind
his
desk.
Shot
through
the
left
breast
at
clos
e
range,
with
a
.32
automatic.”