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and not feared. Mr Dromgoole is not an old man by any means, but he is quite frail. He suffered a serious injury to his head when in the public asylum which further added to his woes – an attack by another patient. He is quite incapable of harming anyone. He is permitted brief excursions when the weather is fine but always in the company of an attendant.’
    ‘Has he ever said anything on the subject of Mr Antrobus?’
    ‘Not that I am aware of.’ Magrath gave the question some further thought. ‘You say that he was Mrs Antrobus’ medical advisor?’
    ‘Very briefly, yes.’
    ‘I remember the heated correspondence in the newspapers between Mr Dromgoole and Dr Goodwin – there would hardly be a medical man in Bayswater who does not – although the patient was never named. And now I think about it I did once receive a letter from Mr Antrobus on the subject of admitting his wife here as a patient. I replied asking for a doctor’s report but heard nothing further.’
    ‘Mrs Antrobus, as her husband later understood, has a disorder of the ears and not the mind,’ Frances advised him.
    ‘Tinnitus aureum, perhaps?’ Magrath suggested. ‘Noises in the head which do not come from any outside source. It is often mistaken for insanity, especially when the patient hears voices. Doctors of medicine receive almost no education on these afflictions.’
    ‘I understand that Dr Goodwin is a highly respected man in his field of expertise.’
    ‘Oh, he is! I do not believe he would make such a mistake.’
    ‘I am pleased to hear it.’ Frances smiled and left a silence that she hoped would be filled.
    Magrath looked thoughtful. ‘Although, and I hesitate to say it —’ He shook his head. ‘Perhaps there are some things best left unsaid.’
    ‘In my experience those are always the things most useful to a detective. Do go on.’
    ‘It may be strong meat for a lady.’ Frances waited expectantly, and he went on. ‘Before he was admitted here Mr Dromgoole was very insistent that he knew something against Dr Goodwin. Something concerning his personal life, which he believed to be very shocking. I do not know to what extent his allegations may be trusted. His opinions will of course have been coloured by his own state of mind and the quarrel, but, as I am sure you know,’ he added with a shrug and a sad smile, ‘bad words travel faster than good ones.’
    Before Frances could say any more the maid returned to advise them that they could now see Mr Dromgoole, and Magrath led the way to a terrace looking out over a small but nicely laid out garden. Before they stepped outside, Magrath paused. ‘It might be best,’ he said softly, ‘if you were not to mention the names of any of the Bayswater medical men to Mr Dromgoole. It could upset him terribly. He was especially bitter about the correspondence in the Chronicle , and any reference to Dr Goodwin would be most distressing.’
    The lawn was dotted with bath chairs whose occupants were very aged, shrunken figures hunched against the sunlight. Despite the warm air, their thin forms were wrapped in shawls and blankets, such that it was difficult to see whether they were men or women. A comfortable chair padded with cushions was on the terrace, and as Frances approached she saw that the man who sat there was very much younger than the other patients, perhaps little more than fifty, although it was hard to tell. His dark grey hair and beard were well trimmed and his blue eyes looked clear, but there was something fixed about his expression that did not bode well for the interview. There was a depressed star-shaped scar on the side of his head, suggesting an old fracture beneath. Beside him stood a slightly built man in his thirties, wearing a dark blue suit with embossed buttons and peaked cap, helping the patient drink from a cup of water.
    ‘Mr Fullwood, this is Miss Doughty who wishes to speak to Mr Dromgoole,’ advised Magrath.
    ‘Miss Doughty is very welcome to do