me.

I had been foolish in my suspicions and apprehensions, and hated
myself for it. Her sweet devotedness to me was sufficient proof of her
honesty. I was not wealthy by any means, and I knew that if she chose
she could, with her notable beauty, captivate a rich husband without
much difficulty. Husbands are only unattainable by the blue-stocking,
the flirt and the personally angular.

The rain pelted down in torrents as I walked to Kew Gardens Station,
and as it generally happens to the unlucky doctor that calls are made
upon him in the most inclement weather, I found, on returning to
Harley Place, that Lady Langley, in Hill Street, had sent a message
asking me to go round at once. I was therefore compelled to pay the
visit, for her ladyship--a snappy old dowager--was a somewhat exacting
patient of Sir Bernard's.

She was a fussy old person who believed herself to be much worse than
she really was, and it was, therefore, not until past one o'clock that
I smoked my final pipe, drained my peg, and retired to bed, full of
recollections of my well-beloved.

Just before turning in my man brought me a telegram from Sir Bernard,
dispatched from Brighton, regarding a case to be seen on the following
day. He was very erratic about telegrams and sent them to me at all
hours, therefore it was no extraordinary circumstance. He always
preferred telegraphing to writing letters. I read the message, tossed
it with its envelope upon the fire, and then retired with a fervent
hope that I should at least be allowed to have a complete night's
rest. Sir Bernard's patients were, however, of that class who call the
doctor at any hour for the slightest attack of indigestion, and
summonses at night were consequently very frequent.

I suppose I had been in bed a couple of hours when I was awakened by
the electric bell sounding in my man's room, and a few minutes later
he entered, saying:--

"There's a man who wants to see you immediately, sir. He says he's
from Mr. Courtenay's, down at Kew."

"Mr. Courtenay's!" I echoed, sitting up in bed. "Bring him in here."

A few moments later the caller was shown in.

"Why, Short!" I exclaimed. "What's the matter?"

"Matter, doctor," the man stammered. "It's awful, sir!"

"What's awful?"

"My poor master, sir. He's dead--he's been murdered!"

CHAPTER V

DISCLOSES A MYSTERY.

The man's amazing announcement held me speechless.

"Murdered!" I cried when I found tongue. "Impossible!