"Have you an appointment, sir?"
"No, I'll just write a few words," and on an official card he wrote:
Should be much obliged if you could spare me a few moments.
I won't keep you long.
He sealed up the card in an envelope and gave it to the butler.
He was shown into a waiting room.
There were two women there and a man.
Japp settled down with an elderly copy of Punch.
The butler reappeared, and crossing the floor, said in a discreet voice:
"If you wouldn't mind waiting a short time, sir, the doctor will see you, but he's very busy this morning."
Japp nodded.
He did not in the least mind waiting - in fact, he rather welcomed it.
The two women had begun to talk.
They had, obviously, a very high opinion of Doctor Bryant's abilities.
More patients came in.
Evidently Doctor Bryant was doing well in his profession.
"Fairly coining money," thought Japp to himself.
"That doesn't look like needing to borrow, but of course the loan may have taken place a long time ago.
Anyway, he's got a fine practice; a breath of scandal would bust it to bits.
That's the worst of being a doctor."
A quarter of an hour later, the butler reappeared and said:
"The doctor will see you now, sir."
Japp was shown into Doctor Bryant's consulting room - a room at the back of the house with a big window.
The doctor was sitting at his desk.
He rose and shook hands with the detective.
His fine-lined face showed fatigue, but he seemed in no way disturbed by the inspector's visit.
"What can I do for you, inspector?" he said as he resumed his seat and motioned Japp to a chair opposite.
"I must apologize first for calling in your consulting hours, but I shan't keep you long, sir."
"That is all right.
I suppose it is about the aeroplane death?"
"Quite right, sir.
We're still working on it."
"With any result?"
"We're not so far on as we'd like to be.
I really came to ask you some questions about the method employed.
It's this snake-venom business that I can't get the hang of."
"I'm not a toxicologist, you know," said Doctor Bryant, smiling. "Such things aren't in my line.
Winterspoon's your man."
"Ah, but you see, it's like this, doctor: Winterspoon's an expert - and you know what experts are.
They talk so that the ordinary man can't understand them. But as far as I can make out, there's a medical side to this business.
Is it true that snake venom is sometimes injected for epilepsy?"
"I'm not a specialist in epilepsy either," said Doctor Bryant. "But I believe that injections of cobra venom have been used in the treatment of epilepsy with excellent results.
But, as I say, that's not really my line of country."
"I know - I know.
What it really amounts to is this: I felt that you'd take an interest, having been on the aeroplane yourself. I thought it possible that you'd have some ideas on the subject yourself that might be useful to me. It's not much good my going to an expert if I don't know what to ask him?"
Doctor Bryant smiled.
"There is something in what you say, inspector.
There is probably no man living who can remain entirely unaffected by having come in close contact with murder. I am interested, I admit. I have speculated a good deal about the case in my quiet way."
"And what do you think, sir?"
Bryant shook his head slowly.