That's an exaggeration, of course, but the element of mystery appeals to him. As you will discover."

Following this touch of personal revelation, Richard remarked:

"You know Mr. Quinton very well. I suppose you have been with him a long time?"

"Eighteen months—no less, no more. But you can get to know a man pretty well in that time, especially when you happen to be his doctor as well as his house-mate. He has been an invalid for many years—since boyhood in fact: a sad case: you'll know more about it after a while. I was at the war before that: got knocked out, and when free of hospital could only take on a soft job, and fate or luck sent me here. Quinton and I have got on well together. Indeed I may tell you in confidence that he offered to leave me all he possessed, provided I would bind myself by his conditions."

So the Quinton inheritance had been offered and refused elsewhere. Here was a matter that might well give Richard food for thought.

"And why did you not--?" he began impulsively.

"Why didn't I grasp at such a chance? Well, I allow it was tempting enough, to a man who is a damaged article—a damage that will be life-long. But I couldn't consent to bind myself as he would have me bound; and there was another reason. I would have been suspected of using my position here to exercise undue influence, and that I couldn't stomach. It was I who suggested to Mr. Quinton that he should seek out his next of kin—eh, what; what is the matter?"

The query was to Peters, who was whispering at his elbow.

"Pray excuse me. I am sorry, but my patient is not so well. "And the little doctor hurried away.

Peters brought in the next course.

"Dr. Lindsay hopes you will go on with the dinner, sir, and not wait for him. He may be detained some time."

For the rest of the meal Richard was solitary. He declined after dinner wine and dessert, so Peters, who felt himself responsible towards the guest, suggested that he might like to smoke in the library, and coffee would be brought to him there. Richard rose from the table, and, as he did so, turned towards the unscreened window behind his chair, and experienced the shock of a surprise. There stood a strange-looking figure, gazing in at him and at the room, with face pressed against the glass. His exclamation recalled Peters, who was in the act of carrying out a tray; but by the time the old butler returned, the figure had disappeared. Who, or what was it? But Peters could not tell.

"I'll have it inquired into, sir. No one had any call to be there. These windows look into the enclosed garden, that is always kept private. A man, did you say, sir? Like a tramp?"

"A man," Richard assented, but he did not add in what likeness. Surely it must have been some freak of fancy that suggested those lineaments, the white leering face which resembled the bestial masks at the gate of the avenue, with their pricked ears and budding horns; and suggested also the naked torso, of which a glimpse was afforded by the light.

Peters brought word with the coffee that no one was found in the garden, but he meant to be extra careful in locking up, "lest it should be somebody after the plate." And indeed, were ill characters about, the unscreened window was likely to bring danger, as the display of silver on sideboard and table might well excite the cupidity of a looker-in.

Dr. Lindsay came down an hour later, but it was only to ask whether Richard had all he wanted for comfort and for the night.

"I shall be sitting up with Mr. Quinton," he explained. "Unluckily, hemorrhage has followed these extractions, and he is morbidly affected by the sight and taste of blood.