“Hmmm.” Fletcher ran a finger over his moustache, a clear sign he found logic in that statement.
Henry did as well, but perhaps not in the same manner as the doctor. “How many patients are in this facility, Dr. Thorne?”
“Forty-threeguestsat the moment.”
Guests, of course. “What is the length of the average stay?” Henry continued his queries as he jotted down her answers.
“Anywhere from two weeks to two months. By then it’s obvious if we’ll be able to help them.”
“And your success rate?” Henry asked, keeping his gaze on the notepad with the hope she’d feel less threatened and answer the question.
She smiled. “Approaching fifty percent.”
That was higher than Henry had expected. But was it truthful? He’d like to calculate the percentage himself. “You must have many satisfied clients.”
Dr. Thorne’s eyes flashed with sudden temper. “They’re guests, Inspector. Not clients.”
“Right.” Henry noted Fletcher’s smirk out of the corner of his eye. “Most are older?”
“Many but not all. We’ve had a few younger guests.”
“Are there any cases you won’t take?”
“Of course,” the woman before him said with a shrug. “Each potential guest is evaluated based on a medical examination and a review of their medical history.”
“But there’s no particular disease you consider out of the realm of possibility to heal with your…your regimen?”
“No.” She shifted in her chair, as if growing weary of the questions, her gaze darting to the door.
Good. That was often when they learned something the suspect hadn’t meant to say.
“Do you live on premises?” Henry asked politely.
Another taut smile. “I have a home in London, though several staff members remain overnight to see to our guests.”
Henry took note of the address, looking forward to visiting her there. “As for your fees,” he continued, “do they vary by patient as well?”
“Yes, and the level of care they need.”
“But you only offer hydropathy and fasting. That’s a lack of food, and an excess of water. Surely those don’t cost much.” Henry frowned to make certain she noted his doubt.
“Hydropathy is not an excess of water. It requires special equipment and trained professionals to oversee the treatments,” the doctor countered, her features sharpening.
“I’m sure.” Henry lifted a brow. “All the money you receive goes toward patient care and expenses?”
She hesitated a moment. “Yes. Along with research.”
“What sort of research?” Fletcher asked before Henry could.
“The medical field is ever-changing. Advances occur frequently.” She straightened in her chair. “We pride ourselves on giving our guests the very best care, and staying on the cutting edge of those advances.”
The edge sounded like a dangerous place when it came to enemas.
Henry pressed a little harder. “And how are hypodermic needles used? Are they part of a newly researched regimen?”
She blinked, a small tick briefly twitching one eyelid. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I understand needles are used in some instances.” Henry flipped the pages of his notebook as if to consult a statement from a previous interview, his pulse quickening. He was close, he was sure of it.
