you had no alternative."

"I thought so, Dr. Irechester, but--"

"Oh yes, clearly! I'm far from making any complaint." He gave her a
courteous little bow, but it was one which plainly closed the subject.
Indeed he passed by her and joined a group that had gathered on the
hearthrug, leaving her alone.

So she stood for a minute, oppressed by a growing uneasiness.
Irechester said nothing, but surely meant something of import? He
mocked her, but not idly or out of wantonness. He seemed almost to warn
her. What could there be to warn her about? He had laid an odd emphasis
on the word "placed"; he had repeated it. Who had "placed" her there?
Mr. Saffron? Or--

Alec Naylor broke in on her uneasy meditation. "It's a clinking night,
Doctor Mary," he observed. "Do you mind if I walk Miss Walford home,
instead of her going with you in your car, you know? It's only a couple
of miles and--"

"Do you think your leg can stand it?"

He laughed. "I'll cut the thing off, if it dares to make any objection!"




CHAPTER VII