he fifth day after I had taken possession
of my cottage that I was astonished to hear footsteps upon the grass
outside, quickly followed by a crack, as from a stick upon the door. The
explosion of an infernal machine would hardly have surprised or
discomfited me more. I had hoped to have shaken off all intrusion for
ever, yet here was somebody beating at my door with as little ceremony as
if it had been a village ale-house. Hot with anger, I flung down my book
and withdrew the bolt just as my visitor had raised his stick to renew
his rough application for admittance. He was a tall, powerful man, tawny-
bearded and deep-chested, clad in a loose-fitting suit of tweed, cut for
comfort rather than elegance. As he stood in the shimmering sunlight, I
took in every feature of his face. The large, fleshy nose; the steady
blue eyes, with their thick thatch of overhanging brows; the broad
forehead, all knitted and lined with furrows, which were strangely at
variance with his youthful bearing. In spite of his weather-stained felt
hat, and the coloured handkerchief slung round his muscular brown neck, I
could see at a glance he was a man of breeding and education. I had been
prepared for some wandering shepherd or uncouth tramp, but this
apparition fairly disconcerted me.

"You look astonished," said he, with a smile. "Did you think, then, that
you were the only man in the world with a taste for solitude? You see
that there are other hermits in the wilderness besides yourself."

"Do you mean to say that you live here?" I asked in no conciliatory
voice.

"Up yonder," he answered, tossing his head backward. "I thought as we
were neighbours, Mr. Upperton, that I could not do less than look in and
see if I could assist you in any way."

"Thank you," I said coldly, standing with my hand upon the latch of the
door. "I am a man of simple tastes, and you can do nothing for me. You
have the advantage of me in knowing my name."

He appeared to be chilled by my ungracious manner.

"I learned it from the masons who were at work here," he said. "As for
me, I am a surgeon, the surgeon of Gaster Fell. That is the name I have
gone by in these parts, and it serves as well as another."

"Not much room for practice here?" I observed.

"Not a soul except yourself for miles on either side."

"You appear to have had need of some assistance yourself," I remarked,
glancing at a broad white splash, as from the recent action of some