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Possibly round the bend, but nobody was called on to decide – she shot herself – probably thought she’d killed me.’
    â€˜Most interesting. Like to look at that. Made a good job of getting you mobile again, what?’
    â€˜Took a long time.’
    â€˜One doesn’t see things like that in this kind of practice,’ with regretful enjoyment.
    â€˜Happy to oblige you any time.’ They both laughed. ‘Still, you do get horses’ hoofs.’
    â€˜Here, this is what I mean.’
    â€˜Aha.’
    â€˜You don’t find me overmuch the enthusiastic undergraduate?’
    â€˜I only wish we had more of them.’
    â€˜Put it in the vice this way, vertically, and here is where we get an approximate result – I’m bound to say roughly approximate, but Patty bears me out – to what you’d expect from a horse, if you were stooping, crouching, even kneeling – here close by, there further off, at the limit, call it, of a horse’s kicking range.’ Van der Valk did not state his respect for the thoughtful way it had been done.
    â€˜Now this drawing is what the actual injury looked like. You see, he’d need to have been sideways, even a bit upside down. The hoof, Patty says, moves in a plane like this.… I started making various suppositions; perhaps he fell but remained entangled, got dragged perhaps – or if there were a second horse – but Francis pooh-poohed all that. He’s the expert after all, been a cavalry officer and so on. Naturally, he’s concerned about it happening on his premises.’
    â€˜You talked to him, did you?’
    Maartens looked uncomfortable.
    â€˜He questioned me closely – I took it that he was thinking of a possible suit for negligence or something of the sort. Since his responsibility could be brought in question, I did think he had a right to know that I was not quite …’ Not very surprisingly, Van der Valk felt curiosity about Francis.
    â€˜The news spread quickly, you know. But was it only to the vet that you hinted what you had in mind? The smith … Francis …’
    â€˜They would not, perhaps, have found it difficult to conclude – from my attitude …’
    â€˜He’s a chatterbox, this Francis?’
    Maartens looked at him as though astonished to hear a policeman ask so naïve a question. ‘He’s not just a gossip – as the smith would be. But he’s the type of person who tells people about things that are bothering him, to make him feel better. But discretion in a village is virtually nonexistent. I made a bad mistake, I realize.’
    â€˜It forces me, virtually, to take some action towards deeper enquiry. You’ve set, without perhaps meaning to, a police apparatus in motion. Do you regret that? Do you want to qualify your certainty that you feel dissatisfied?’
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ sturdily, ‘but I am not satisfied.’
    â€˜That’s all right. I’m not blaming you. My reaction was sudden, perhaps, simply because my wife heard fragments of this gossip. I rang you, you invited me to come and see, and I am sufficiently impressed by what you show me. We’ll arrange a medico-legal examination.’
    â€˜And if it turns out to be a perfectly natural death I’ll lose my practice.’
    â€˜Does that prospect worry you very much?’
    â€˜No.’ Firmly.
    â€˜It’s always an occupational hazard. For me too. Now where is this manège exactly? My wife goes there, but I’ve never been with her.’
    â€˜Just up the road. Ten minutes’ walk.’
    â€˜And the restaurant?’
    â€˜Ah, for that you need the car. Five minutes along the road going back towards Lisse.’
    He decided to walk; good exercise. He dropped in on the tiny local gendarmerie bureau, looked at the measurements and photographs, gave nobody any blowing-up, and left the driver where he was,