The rapidly failing daylight showed a large elderly, rather pompous
gentleman, with a bald head, grizzled whiskers, and heavy plebeian
features.

His face was smooth and unwrinkled, as the faces of prosperous and
self-satisfied persons sometimes are, even after sixty, which was the
age Sir Timothy had attained.

Dr. Blundell, who sat opposite his patient, was neither prosperous nor
self-satisfied.

His dark clean-shaven face was deeply lined; care or over-work had
furrowed his brow; and the rather unkempt locks of black hair which
fell over it were streaked with white. From the deep-set brown eyes
looked sadness and fatigue, as well as a great kindness for his
fellow-men.

"I came the moment I received your letter," he said. "I had no idea
you were back from London already."

"Dr. Blundell," said Sir Timothy, pompously, "when I took the very
unusual step of leaving home the day before yesterday, I had resolved
to follow the advice you gave me. I went to fulfil an appointment I
had made with a specialist."

"With Sir James Power?"

"No, with a man named Herslett. You may have heard of him."