By Richard Gordon

Before Razzy had been away half an hour the door­bell rang. I jumped up, pulled on my shoes, swiftly pushed my comforts under the couch, and opened the door. On the mat was a tall, amiable-looking man with a droopy white moustache, who wore a tweed suit and carried a heavy dispatch-case with the Royal cipher in gold.

"Good afternoon," he said pleasantly. "I have an ap­pointment with Dr Potter-Phipps."

I looked puzzled.

"My private secretary arranged it earlier in the week. I'm afraid Saturday afternoon is my only free time at present. I hope it is not unduly inconvenient for the doc­tor?"

"I'm terribly sorry, but there's been a mistake," I said, letting him in. "Dr Potter-Phipps is away at the mo­ment. I'm his assistant. Just a minute and I'll look at the book."

"Thank you. My name is Beecham. It seemed simpler to call here than to ask him to visit me." He smiled. "And no doubt more economical."

"But I'm afraid the appointment was made for next Saturday."

"Oh, dear! How infuriating. This is not the first time such a mistake has occurred. And next Saturday I shall be in Edinburgh." He assessed me. "Perhaps I could have a consultation with you instead, Doctor? I did rather want to be off to the country this lovely afternoon."

"I should be very pleased," I told him, with a brief bow. "Kindly come into the consulting-room."

"You will be wanting my medical history first, no doubt," he went on, as he sat down. "I have it specially tabulated in my mind. Age, sixty-one. Married. Occupation, cabinet minister. Usual childhood complaints. I'm not going too fast?"

"Did you say 'cabinet minister'? That was flying high, even for us."

"I am the Minister of Inland Development," he added modestly, as though referring to a favourable golf handicap. I suddenly remembered seeing his photograph in the papers a week ago, snipping a tape " and giving the country another bridge. He seemed a pleasant old boy, but as I had never even seen a cabinet minister be­fore I wondered how to address him. I decided to play for safety, and treat him roughly like a duke.

"Of course, sir," I said. "I'm — I'm terribly sorry not to have recognized you at once. Please forgive me. Now perhaps you'd be so kind as to allow me to ask you a few questions?"

He folded his arms. “Of course, Doctor. Do exactly what you wish. I place myself entirely in your hands. He folded his arms. «Of course, Doctor. Do exactly what you wish. I place myself entirely in your hands. As I was saying to the Minister of Health yesterday, what on earth’s the use of seeing a doctor if you don’t follow his advice, disregarding entirely your own opinion of the complaint? He said your own opinion of the doctor was possibly more important.” My patient smiled. “Of course, he was only joking. He was quite a wit.”

"Oh, quite? Now what's the trouble, sir?"

As the Minister seemed to be suffering from pains connected with the spinal column, I pointed to the ex­amination couch and told him to take his clothes off.

"All my clothes, Doctor?"

"Yes, please. I want a good look at you."

"Anything you say, of course."

I had just drawn the curtains round him as he started unbuttoning his waistcoat, when the bell rang again.

"Just a minute," I said.

On the doormat I found an attractive, tall, dark wom­an with a mink cape slipping off her shoulders, who clutched at her throat and cried. "Oh, God! Oh, God! I'm going to die!"

All I could think of saying was, "Here I say, steady on!" She pushed past me, threw herself on the waiting-room couch, and burst into tears.

I quickly shut off the Minister of Inland Development in the consulting-room.

THE "R" DOCUMENT