ll get into one of those confounded taxis, and drive to Doctor
Newington's. I'll see him. You shall stay in the cab; and if I can get
his permission, we'll go and have a talk with old Rad--or rather I'll
talk first and you shall pretend that our joint visit is only a
coincidence. As a matter of fact he knew all about the murder before
he got ill, and he won't think it at all unnatural that I have
obtained special medical permission to question him myself on the
subject. Then you must work in your questions about Luke as best you
can afterward. Is that agreed now?"

"Indeed it is, Uncle Ryder," said Louisa, as she rose from her chair,
with a deep sigh of infinite contentment. "Thank you," she added
gently, and placed her neatly gloved hand upon his arm.

With a kind, fatherly gesture, he gave that little hand an encouraging
pat. Then he rang the bell.

"A taxi--quickly!" he said to his man. "My fur coat and my hat. I am
going out."

Louisa had gained her first victory. She had put forward neither
violence nor passion in support of her arguments. Yet she had
conquered because she believed.

A few moments later she and Sir Thomas Ryder were on their way to
Doctor Newington's in Hertford Street.

CHAPTER XXXVII

IT IS ONE HUMAN LIFE AGAINST THE OTHER

Once more Louisa was sitting in the dark corner of a cab, seeing
London by night, as the motor flew past lighted thoroughfares, dark,
narrow streets, stately mansions and mean houses. The same endless
monotony of bricks and mortar, of pillars and railings; the same
endless monotony of every-day life whilst some hearts were breaking
and others suffered misery to which cruel, elusive death refused its
supreme solace.

She waited in the cab whilst Sir Thomas Ryder went in to see the
doctor. Fortunately the latter was at home, and able to see Sir
Thomas.

At first he was obdurate. Nothing that the high officer of police
could say would move his medical dictum. Lord Radclyffe was too ill to
see any one. He was hardly conscious. His brain was working very
feebly. He had not spoken for two days, for speech was difficult.

"If," said Doctor Newington in his habitual pompous manner, "he had
the least inkling now, that that favourite nephew of his was guilty of
this awful murder, why, my dear sir, I wouldn't answer for the
consequences. I believe the feeble bit of life in him would go out
like a candle that's been blown upon."

"Who talks," retorted Sir Thomas s