Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 48, No. 1, January 2003

“Collie Wentworth.” Darwin swallowed, stood up, and clapped the newcomer on the shoulder. “And what a reception to give me after all these years — gates closed, Porter’s Lodge empty, quadrangles deserted.”

His tone was cheerful, but his eyes were evaluating the other man. His next words held a different tone. “Bad news, Collie? If we were better at an inn in the hours before the Cook Expedition lecture and exhibit, you have but to say the word.”

Wentworth glanced at Pole, who had so far not spoken.

“An official introduction,” Darwin said at once. “Driscoll Wentworth, Colonel Jacob Pole.”

Pole bowed. “At your service.”

“And what you say before him, Collie,” Darwin went on, “will never go farther. My word on it.”

Wentworth nodded. “That is appreciated. However, your word on something else is what I need. First, I have unwelcome news for you. The Cook Expedition lecture is postponed, delayed by the same storm that slowed your coming. I will confess to you, today I have given little thought to that or to your own impending arrival, much as it was earlier anticipated. However, your presence may be most opportune. Your reputation as the first physician in Europe is well deserved, and you are the most rational man that I know. Would you offer an opinion on an event within this college?”

“You have sickness here?” Darwin’s pudgy face came alight with interest.

Wentworth shook his head. “Worse than that. We have death. Early this morning, of Dr. Elias Barton.”

“Elias Charles Barton?”

“The same.”

“I am sorry to hear of it. I knew him, Collie. Not well, for he arrived in ’55, the year that I took the M.B. He already had a reputation for brilliance and erudition.”

“Brilliance and erudition, those I will admit.” Wentworth’s face took on a curious expression of distaste. “Though the ends to which they are put is perhaps more important than their degree.”

Pole’s raised eyebrow at Darwin spoke paragraphs. The kindliest and best-intentioned of men, who thinks well of everybody? Not when it comes to Elias Barton.

Darwin said only, “And now it is former brilliance. Collie, medical knowledge can do nothing for a dead man.”

“It can perhaps do one thing, which is to confirm the cause of his death. There is dispute in this college concerning the nature and manner of that event. The circumstances are as follows. Late last night—”

“With your indulgence.” Darwin held up his hand. “Are the mortal remains of Dr. Elias Barton here in the college?”

“They are. For want of a better temporary resting place, we placed his body in his rooms, at E Staircase in Third Court.”

“Then I would rather examine the body before hearing the circumstances of his death. An opinion without bias is more easily arrived at when the mind is unclouded by collateral information.”

Wentworth frowned. “As you wish.”

He led the way through the grandeur of Second Court. His face held its frown and he did not speak again. The silence allowed the walkers to note the faint sound of wind and to speculate on another change in the weather. Clouds were returning overhead, while a heaviness in the air suggested a respite from, rather than an end to, the violence of last night’s storm.

Third Court was less imposing than Second and backed onto the Cam River. Wentworth took his guests to the far left-hand corner, where a narrow passage gave access to Kitchen Lane and the Wren Bridge. Here, however, he turned into a stairway just before the opening to Kitchen Lane. He unlocked the heavy oak door on the left that led to a ground floor set of rooms, motioning Darwin to enter but saying to Jacob Pole, “It is not a pleasant sight. If you would prefer to remain outside...”

Pole grunted. “Appreciated. But to find worse than I have seen in battle, we would have to be wading in blood before we came to the doorstep.”

He followed Darwin into an elaborately furnished room about fourteen feet square. The left-hand wall held three narrow windows, with a large oak desk set by the middle one. Although it was clearly designed as a study, the far wall being all bookcases, columns had been added to the other walls in the form of caryatids, carved and painted women whose eyes seemed to follow anyone about the room.

Wentworth shrugged as he saw what the others were looking at. “A distasteful preference, but done all at Barton’s own expense. He kept this set of rooms throughout his whole time in college, declining larger sets, and employed skilled artisans from several different parts of the country to perform his work. Since he was certainly not detracting from the value of the rooms, he was permitted his whim.”