affected her heart. But he didn’t think so.”

66

He stopped speaking. Mr. Kentworthy was busily writing, and Harry Garlett stared at his visitor’s bent head. Though assuring himself that it would be “all right,” he felt an eerie feeling of apprehension wrapping him round.

“I thank you for the straightforward way in which you have answered my questions,” said the police inspector, getting up from his chair, “and now I propose to see Dr. Maclean.”

“Would you like me to make a telephone appointment for you with him?” asked Garlett. “He’s a very busy man.”

“Why, yes, I should. But I hope you won’t think it unreasonable of me to ask you to give him no hint as to my business?”

“You will hear everything I say to him,” answered the other quickly.

He took his telephone receiver off. “Put me through to Dr. Maclean’s house.”

James Kentworthy, who was now standing close to the writing-table, heard the answer: “Miss Bower is already on the line, sir; we told her you didn’t want to be disturbed—shall I put her through?”

“Yes, please.”

And then, unmindful of the presence of a stranger, more unmindful no doubt because James Kentworthy was still so entirely a stranger to him, Harry Garlett put his whole heart into the question he breathed into the receiver.

“Is that you, my dearest?” And then—“I want to speak to the doctor.”

The other heard, as from afar off, a bright, happy voice 67exclaim: “He’s in the meadow with Aunt Jenny! I’ll run along and get him. But you’d better hang up the receiver, for I’m afraid it’ll be full five minutes.”

67

Garlett hung up the receiver, and again faced his visitor.

“I should like to tell you, Mr. Kentworthy, that I am just about to be married.”

“Just about to be married?”

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