Green for Danger by Christianna Brand Page A

said Mrs. Higgins, beginning to weep again. “And the next thing is they’ll have to inform the Coringer. ‘I’m not going to ’ave any nasty inquests on my old man,’ I says: ‘I’m not going to ’ave ’im cut about and that’s flat!’ ‘I’m afraid we can’t prevent it,’ they says, ‘any case of death under annersetic has to be reported to the Coringer, and if he orders a poce mortem there’s nothing we can do about it.’ So the next thing is there’s the inquest, and the next thing is I come up here to find out what’s what, not being satisfied with the Coringer’s Verdick myself: and now here’s Scotland Yard, narking and questioning and bullying and me a pore widder thirty-seven year married and …”
    â€œAnd never a cross word,” finished Cockrill, and bowed the lady out without further narking or bullying.
    3
    A little group met that afternoon in the central hall of the hospital. “We saw you trotting the Inspector round, Major Moon,” said Woods. “What did he say? Is he going to arrest us all for murdering poor old Higgins?”
    â€œReally, Nurse Woods, the way you do talk!” cried Sister Bates, who did not care for this kind of conversation even in fun.
    â€œHe looked rather a sweet little man,” said Frederica.
    Inspector Cockrill was anything but a sweet little man. Major Moon was about to explain this, though carefully exalting his many and genuine virtues, when he was interrupted by one, Sergeant McCoy, who, coming out of the reception-room, hesitated, saluted, and stood respectfully silent until given permission to speak. “What is it, McCoy?” asked Moon.
    Sergeant McCoy was Orderly Sergeant on night duty in the reception-room, where, among other things, various keys were kept. He had been greatly excited by the rumour that a detective was going round the hospital, and he now had a tale to relate of which he proposed to make a great deal of capital, though, in his heart, he believed it to be entirely without significance. On the night of the blitz, the night of Higgins’ admission, that is to say, a figure, masked and gowned, had come into the reception-room, taken the key of the operating theatre off its hook, and silently glided away: returning sometime later, unseen, and replacing the key on the hook. His expression added: There now! What do you think of that ?
    Major Moon thought very little of it. “Well, what about it, McCoy? You must often have people in their gowns coming in for the key.”
    â€œBut this was the key of the main theatre, sir; and it wasn’t being used that night.”
    â€œWell, somebody in the emergency theatre wanted something and sent up for it. Didn’t you see who took the key?”
    â€œNo, I didn’t, sir. I thought it was just one of the nurses, like you say; and then I was busy, sir, with the blitz and all, and so many admissions, and I didn’t see anyone put it back.”
    Sister Bates was up in arms at a fancied reflection on her staff work. “I’m sure there couldn’t have been any need to send up from emergency. In fact, I asked the night staff afterwards and they said everything had been quite all right. They’d have told me if they’d had to borrow anything from the main theatre.… I even went down myself and checked up on everything before operating started, though I wasn’t on duty; I’m sure there was nothing wrong.”
    â€œWhat about you, nurse? You weren’t on duty either, so I suppose you wouldn’t know?”
    â€œWell, no, I wasn’t, sir,” said Woody; she looked at Barney, also standing by. “You would know if anything had been sent for.”
    â€œI don’t think anything was ,” said Barnes.
    Sister Bates marched to the telephone and rang across to the Sisters’ Mess. “No, definitely nobody left the emergency