"That's right, Doctor," said Mrs. Sykes, who had heard the last words.
"There's nothing like a word about retribution when a person's sick. It
helps 'em to realise their state. I don't hold with the light-minded
that want to get away from retribution. Depend upon it, they're the very
folks that's got it coming to them. Yes. No one needs to go around
denying that there's a hell, if their feet are planted upon a rock and
they know they're never going there. It's years now since I've looked
hell in the face and turned my feet the other way. But I do say that if
I'd decided to go straight ahead in the broad and easy path, I wouldn't
try to shut my eyes to the end of it, like some folks! Are you putting
up at the Imperial, Doctor?"

"'Putting up' exactly expresses my condition."

"Well, you may as well know at once that a doctor in a hotel will never
get any forwarder in Coombe. You'll have to get boarding somewhere. Have
you looked around yet?"

"No. I--"

"Then I don't mind telling you that the spare-room is to let and the
little room down below that has a door of its own and seems made exactly
for a doctor's office. I shouldn't mind letting you have them if you
feel sure that the smells wouldn't get loose all through the house and
in the cooking. There's a barn where you could keep your horse."

"I haven't got a horse," protested Callandar feebly.

"But of course you'll be getting one. A doctor has to have a horse. If