I love Ethelwynn," I declared, rather annoyed, "and I
intend to marry her."

"If you do, then you'll spoil all your chances of success. The class
of women who are my patients would much rather consult a confirmed
bachelor than a man who has a jealous wife hanging to his coat-tails.
The doctor's wife must always be a long-suffering person."

I smiled; and then our conversation turned upon his proposed
retirement, which was to take place in six months' time.

I returned to London by the last train, and on entering my room found
a telegram from Ambler making an appointment to call on the following
evening. The message was dated from Eastbourne, and was the first I
had received from him for some days.

Next morning I sat in Sir Bernard's consulting-room as usual,
receiving patients, and the afternoon I spent on the usual hospital
round. About six o'clock Ambler arrived, drank a brandy and soda with
a reflective air, and then suggested that we might dine together at
the Cavour--a favourite haunt of his.

At table I endeavoured to induce him to explain his movements and what
he had discovered; but he was still disinclined to tell me anything.
He worked always in secret, and until facts were clear said nothing.
It was a peculiarity of his to remain dumb, even to his most intimate
friends concerning any inquiries he was making. He was a man of moods,
with an active mind and a still tongue--two qualities essential to the
successful unravelling of mysteries.

Having finished dinner we lit cigars, and took a cab back to my rooms.
On passing along Harley Street it suddenly occurred to me that in the
morning I had left a case of instruments in Sir Bernard's
consulting-room, and that I might require them for one of my patients
if called that night.

Therefore I stopped the cab, dismissed it, and knocked at Sir
Bernard's door. Ford, on opening it, surprised me by announcing that
his master, whom I had left in bed on the previous night, had returned
to town suddenly, but was engaged.

Ambler waited in the hall, while I passed along to the door of the
consulting-room with the intention of asking permission to enter, as I
always did when Sir Bernard was engaged with a patient.

On approaching the door, however, I was startled by hearing a woman's
voice raised in angry, reproachful words, followed immediately by the
sound of a scuffle, and then a stifled cry. Without further hesitation
I turned the handle.

The door was lock