look of him at all; but nevertheless I decided to undertake the
case.

"I suppose," I answered, at length, "it is no affair of mine who the
patient is or where he lives. But how do you propose to manage the
business? Am I to be led to the house blindfolded, like the visitor to
the bandit's cave?"

The man grinned slightly and looked very decidedly relieved.

"No, sir," he answered; "we ain't going to blindfold you. I've got a
carriage outside. I don't think you'll see much out of that."

"Very well," I rejoined, opening the door to let him out, "I'll be with
you in a minute. I suppose you can't give me any idea as to what is the
matter with the patient?"

"No, sir, I can't," he replied; and he went out to see to the carriage.

I slipped into a bag an assortment of emergency drugs and a few
diagnostic instruments, turned down the gas and passed out through the
surgery. The carriage was standing at the kerb, guarded by the coachman
and watched with deep interest by the bottle-boy. I viewed it with
mingled curiosity and disfavour. It was a kind of large brougham, such
as is used by some commercial travellers, the usual glass windows being
replaced by wooden shutters intended to conceal the piles of
sample-boxes, and the doors capable of being locked from outside with a
railway key.

As I emerged from the house, the coachman unlocked the door and held it
open.

"How long will the journey take?" I asked, pausing with my foot on the
step.

The coachman considered a moment or two and replied:

"It took me, I should say, nigh upon half an hour to get here."

This was pleasant hearing. A half an hour each way and a half an hour at
the patient's house. At that rate it would be half-past ten before I was
home again, and then it was quite probable that I should find some other
untimely messenger waiting on the doorstep. With a muttered anathema on
the unknown Mr. Graves and the unrestful life of a locum tenens, I
stepped into the uninviting vehicle. Instantly the coachman slammed the
door and turned the key, leaving me in total darkness.

One comfort was left to me; my pipe was in my pocket. I made shift to
load it in the dark, and, having lit it with a wax match, took the
opportunity to inspect the interior of my prison. It was a shabby
affair. The moth-eaten state of the blue cloth cushions seemed to
suggest that it had been long out of regular use; the oil-cloth
floor-covering was worn into holes; ordinary intern