Doctor On Toast by Richard Gordon Read Free Book Online Page B

the slightest discomfort from the elements for years, except when he has forgotten his umbrella. He has an extremely agreeable office in the City, where he has risen to be Marine Superintendent of the Capricorn Shipping Line.’
    I gave a start.
    ‘The Capricorn Line, sir?’
    But before I could say any more Sir Lancelot gripped my arm.
    ‘Look at that! The feller in the bowler again.’
    He was wiping snow from one of those big plans of the Zoo they put up here and there. With a little shriek, he shot out of sight behind the aviary.
    ‘I told you he was insane,’ snorted Sir Lancelot.
    ‘He certainly seems to be behaving rather oddly.’
    ‘So are we, being here at all in this weather. Now children, here is our next exhibit.’
    ‘What a swizz,’ complained Hilda, ‘they’re only rats.’
    ‘I assure you, young lady, that the dental structure of the rat is utterly fascinating.’
    ‘I want to see the lions,’ grumbled Randolph.
    ‘ Panthera leo by all means. I believe they are kept over here.’
    We pitched into the snow again. We were all four soaked to the skin, but I myself was glowing inside like a blast furnace. I’d had a terrific idea about Sir Lancelot’s brother, and I was just wondering how to work it out when there was that damn little man again, nipping round the antelopes and shooting into the lion house.
    ‘Grimsdyke!’
    Sir Lancelot stopped.
    ‘Sir?’
    ‘I’m inclined to think there is more in this bowler-hatted feller than meets the eye.’
    ‘He may simply be rather fond of animals, sir?’
    ‘H’m. We shall nevertheless investigate. Now you two children.’ He glared at them. ‘Keep close behind me, and if you make so much as a squeak I’ll chuck you in the bear pit.’
    We crept through the snow to the door of the lion house. We peeped inside. There was the little man with his attaché case open, throwing chunks of meat to a bunch of highly appreciative carnivores behind the bars.
    ‘By George!’ Sir Lancelot hissed in my ear. ‘Now I know who the feller reminds me of. Crippen!’
    ‘What, Crippen the murderer, sir?’
    ‘Of course Crippen the murderer! He’s exactly the same type – meek little man in a stiff collar and glasses, and as dangerous as hell. Good God, Grimsdyke! We’re witnessing the crime of the century.’
    I didn’t quite follow all this.
    ‘Don’t be dense, boy! You chop up your wife, and what do you do with her? Why – feed her to the lions in the Zoo, of course!’
    ‘But he may just be having a bit of fun, like people with monkey nuts–’
    ‘Hi, there! You!’
    I was a bit alarmed as Sir Lancelot strode into the lion house.
    ‘Here, I say!’ I exclaimed. ‘Hold on, sir–’
    I was even more alarmed when the Crippen chap gave a yell, chucked the last of the meat through the bars, and made for the far door with the senior surgeon of St Swithin’s in pursuit.
    ‘Stop that man!’ shouted Sir Lancelot. ‘Stop him, I say!’
    I stood in the snow. I wondered what to do. Sir Lancelot chased the chap round the penguins, while the children jumped up and down in delight. They hadn’t had such fun since a visiting curate got caught in the motor-mower.
    The little man dived for one of those revolving iron exit gates, with Sir Lancelot close behind. I grabbed the children’s chocolate-plastered gloves and followed. I must say, I felt pretty worried. Sir Lancelot was making an absolutely first class ruddy fool of himself. Distinguished surgical gents simply can’t go round London chasing tender-hearted little men who feel the lions need a bit of fattening up. And when I got the brats outside, there was Sir Lancelot holding his quarry by the macintosh collar, and probably committing all sorts of actionable assault.
    ‘All right, guv’nor,’ the little man kept repeating. ‘I’ll come quiet. It’s a fair cop all right, and I shouldn’t never have done it.’
    ‘Good Lord!’ I exclaimed, a bit horrified. ‘Then he really is a–’
    ‘Fetch