"Were you much hurt?"

"No, not really; but the fall bruised my knee rather badly and gave me a
deuce of a shake up. I'm too old for that sort of thing, you know."

"Most people are," said I.

"True; but you can take a cropper more gracefully at twenty than at
fifty-five. However, the knee is getting on quite well--you shall see it
presently--and you observe that I am giving it complete rest. But that
isn't the whole of the trouble or the worst of it. It's my confounded
nerves. I'm as irritable as the devil and as nervous as a cat, and I
can't get a decent night's rest."

I recalled the tremulous hand that he had offered me. He did not look
like a drinker, but still--

"Do you smoke much?" I inquired diplomatically.

He looked at me slyly and chuckled. "That's a very delicate way to
approach the subject, Doctor," he said. "No, I don't smoke much, and I
don't crook my little finger. I saw you look at my shaky hand just
now--oh, it's all right; I'm not offended. It's a doctor's business to
keep his eyelids lifting. But my hand is steady enough as a rule, when
I'm not upset, but the least excitement sets me shaking like a jelly.
And the fact is that I have just had a deucedly unpleasant interview--"

"I think," Miss Bellingham interrupted, "Doctor Berkeley and, in fact,
the neighbourhood at large, are aware of the fact."