from the elbows down. He was rather flushed, but did not look seriously
ill, and greeted Doctor Mary with dignified composure.

"I'll see Dr. Arkroyd alone, Hector." Beaumaroy gave the slightest little
jerk of his head, and the old man added quickly, "I am sure of myself,
quite sure."

The phrase sounded rather an odd one to Mary, but Beaumaroy accepted the
assurance with a nod: "All right, I'll wait downstairs, sir. I hope
you'll bring me a good account of him, Doctor." So he left Mary to make
her examination; going downstairs, he shook his head once, pursed up his
lips, and then smiled doubtfully, as a man may do when he has made up his
mind to take a chance.

When Mary rejoined him, she asked for pen and paper, wrote a
prescription, and requested that Beaumaroy's man should take it to the
chemist's. He went out, to give it to the Sergeant, and, when he came
back, found her seated in the big chair by the fire.

"The present little attack is nothing, Mr. Beaumaroy," she said.
"Stomachic--with a little fever; if he takes what I've prescribed, he
ought to be all right in the morning. But I suppose you know that there
is valvular disease--quite definite? Didn't Dr. Irechester tell you?"

"Yes; but he said there was no particular--no immediate danger."

"If he's kept quiet and free from worry. Didn't he advise that?"

"Yes," Beaumaroy admitted, "he did. That's the only thing you find wrong
with him, Doctor?"