I examined Dr. Grove’s heart with care, then shrugged. “A bit charred over the surface membrane,” I said. “But no one could say that it had been consumed, even partly.”

“My conclusions as well,” Lower said with satisfaction. “The first real evidence in favor of poisoning. That’s interesting.”

“Has anybody ever tried this test on someone who has indubitably not died of poisoning?’’ I asked.

Lower shook his head. “Not that I know of. Next time I have a corpse I’ll give it a try. Now, you see, had young Prestcott not been so selfish we could have had a comparison.” He glanced around the kitchen. “I suppose we had better clear up a bit; otherwise the servants will bolt when they come in tomorrow morning.”

He set to work himself with a cloth and water; Locke, I noted, did not assist.

“There,” he said after many minutes’ silence in which I had tidied, he had washed and Locke had puffed on his pipe.

“If you would call the warden, we can put Grove back. But before we do, what is our opinion?”

“The man is dead,” Locke said dryly.

“How?”

“I do not think there is enough evidence to say.”

“Sticking your neck out as usual. Cola?”

“I am disinclined on the evidence so far to think his death anything but natural.”

“And you, Lower?” Locke asked.

“I would suggest that we reserve judgment until such time as further evidence is forthcoming.”

With a careful warning that we were not to inform anyone of the evening’s activity, lest too much scandal be excited, Warden Woodward thanked us for our help after we had presented our puny conclusions. The relief on his face—for Lower had not told him about Stahl and he clearly thought the matter was now closed—was self-evident.

13

It is the custom of the English to bury their dead with as much speed as they hang them. Under normal circumstances, Dr. Grove would have been interred in the cloister of New College already, but the warden had used some pretext to delay the ceremony for a full two days. Lower used the time granted him to urge Stahl to speed, while I was left at liberty due to Mr. Boyle’s absence in London, which town had a greater attraction for him since his beloved sister moved there.

Most of the day I used up in attending to my patient and my experiment, and the moment I arrived, I saw with joy that both were progressing well. Mrs. Blundy was not only awake and alert, she had even eaten a little thin soup. Her fever was gone, her piss had a healthy bitterness and, even more extraordinarily, there were the first signs of improvement in her wound. Little enough, to be sure, but for the first time I saw that her condition had not deteriorated.

I was delighted, and beamed at her with all the triumphant affection a physician can have for an obedient patient. “My dear woman,” I said when I had finished my examination, applied some more salve and sat down on the rickety stool, “I do believe we may yet snatch you from the jaws of death. How do you feel?”

“A little better, thank you, praise be to God,” she said. “Not ready to go back to work yet, I fear. It is a great concern to me. Dr. Lower and yourself have been more than generous, but we cannot survive without my earning money.”

“Your daughter does not earn enough?”

“Not to keep us out of debt, no. She has trouble with her work, for she has a reputation for being fiery and disobedient. It is so unfair; a better girl no mother ever had.”

“She is sometimes more outspoken than a girl in her position has a right to be.”

“No, sir. She is more outspoken than a girl in her position is allowed to be.”

There was a sudden defiance in her weak voice as she said this, although what exactly she meant was not immediately clear to me.

“Is there a difference?” I asked.

“Sarah was brought up in a society of the most perfect equality between men and women; she finds it hard to accept that there are things forbidden her.”

It was difficult to resist a smirk, but I remembered she was my patient, and so humored her; besides, I had undertaken my travels to learn, and even though this was far from being useful experience, I was broad-minded enough then to tolerate it.

“I am sure a good husband would teach her all she needs to know on that subject,” I said. “If one can be found for her.”

“It will be difficult to find anyone she would accept.”

This time I did laugh out loud. “I think she should take anyone willing to have her, should she not? She has little enough to offer in return.”

“Only herself, but that is much. I think sometimes we did not do right by her,” she replied. “It has not ended as we expected. Now she is all on her own, and her parents are a burden rather than a support.”

“Your husband is alive, then?”

“No, sir. But the calumnies that were heaped on him bear down on her as well. I see from your face that you have heard of him.”

“Very little, and I have learned never to believe what I hear when it is bad.”

“In that case you are a rare man,” she said gravely. “Ned was the most loving of husbands and the best of fathers who devoted his life to winning justice in a cruel world. But he is dead, and I will soon be so as well.”

“She has no resources whatsoever? No people apart from yourself?”

“None. Ned’s family was from Lincolnshire, mine from Kent. All my people are dead, and his were dispersed when the fens were drained and they were thrown off their lands without a penny. So Sarah is quite without connections. What prospects she had were taken by slander, and she has spent the small sums she saved for her dowry on me in my illnesses. The only thing she will have from me when I die is her freedom.”

“She’ll manage,” I said cheerfully. “She is young and healthy, and in any case, you do me a great disservice. I am, after all, doing my very best to keep you alive. With some success, I must say.”

“You must be very pleased that your treatment worked. It is strange how much I wish to live.”

“I am pleased to gratify you. I think that we may have stumbled on a remedy of unparalleled importance. It was a shame that Sarah was all that we had available. If we’d had a bit more time, we might have been able to recruit a blacksmith. Just think, if we had given you the blood of a really strong man, you might be up and about by now. But I’m afraid the spirit contained in a woman’s blood will not allow your leg to mend as rapidly. Perhaps in a week or so we could repeat the treatment…”

She smiled, and said that she would submit to whatever I thought necessary. And so I left, in a high state of good humor and self-regard.

I met Sarah herself, trudging through the muddy slush of the lane outside, carrying more sticks and logs for the fire. Even she I greeted with good cheer and, to my surprise, she responded warmly.

“Your mother is doing well,” I told her. “I am delighted with her.”

She smiled easily, the first time I had seen such an expression on her face. “God has smiled on us through you, doctor,” she replied. “I am very grateful.”

“Think nothing of it,” I replied, warmed by the response. “It was fascinating. Besides, she is not fully cured yet, you know. She is still weak; weaker than she herself knows. And I think further treatment might be useful. You must make sure she does nothing that might endanger that. I suspect you will find it difficult.”

“I will indeed. She is much used to activity.”

Although the thaw was beginning, and the country was slowly emerging from the long dark of winter, it was still ferociously cold when the wind got up, and I shivered in the gusts of bitter air. “I must talk to you about these matters,” I said. “Is there anywhere we could go?”

She told me there was a drinking house around the corner which had a fire and I should go there. For herself, she would build up the fire and ensure her mother was comfortable, then join me.