those night
hours over my pipe I resolved to forget once and for all that letter I
had discovered among the "dead" man's effects, and determined that,
while I sought reconciliation with Ethelwynn, I would keep an open and
watchful eye upon Mary and her fellow conspirator.

The suggestion that Ethelwynn, believing herself forsaken, had
accepted the declarations of a man she considered more worthy than
myself, lashed me to a frenzy of madness. He should never have her,
whoever he might be. She had been mine, and should remain so, come
what might. I added a postscript, asking her to wire me permission to
travel down to Hereford to see her; then, sealing up the letter, I
went out along the Marylebone Road and posted it in the pillar-box,
which I knew was cleared at five o'clock in the morning.

It was then about three o'clock, calm, but rather overcast. The
Marylebone Road had at last become hushed in silence. Wagons and cabs
had both ceased, and save for a solitary policeman here and there the
long thoroughfare, so full of traffic by day, was utterly deserted. I
retraced my steps slowly towards the corner of Harley Street, and was
about to open the door of the house wherein I had "diggings" when I
heard a light, hurried footstep behind me, and turning, confronted the
figure of a slim woman of middle height wearing a golf cape, the hood
of which had been thrown over her head in lieu of a hat.

"Excuse me, sir," she cried, in a breathless voice, "but are you
Doctor Boyd?"

I replied that such was my name.

"Oh, I'm in such distress," she said, in the tone of one whose heart
is full of anguish. "My poor father!"

"Is your father ill?" I inquired, turning from the door and looking
full at her. I was standing on the step, and she was on the pavement,
having evidently approached from the opposite direction. She stood
with her back to the street lamp, so I could discern nothing of her
features. Only her voice told me that she was young.

"Oh, he's very ill," she replied anxiously. "He was taken queer at
eleven o'clock, but he wouldn't hear of me coming to you. He's one of
those men who don't like doctors."

"Ah!" I remarked; "there are many of his sort about. But they are
compelled to seek our aid now and then. Well, what can I do for you? I
suppose you want me to see him--eh?"

"Yes, sir, if you'd be so kind. I know its awfully late; but, as
you've been out, perhaps you wouldn't mind running round to our house.
It's