"Was he consulting you professionally, Mr. Harley?" asked the
physician.

"He was," replied Harley, continuing to stare fascinatedly at the
photograph on the mantelpiece. "I am informed," said he,
abruptly, "that Miss Abingdon is out of town?"

Doctor McMurdoch nodded in his slow, gloomy fashion. "She is
staying in Devonshire with poor Abingdon's sister," he answered.
"I am wondering how we are going to break the news to her."

Perceiving that Doctor McMurdoch had clearly been intimate with
the late Sir Charles, Harley determined to make use of this
opportunity to endeavour to fathom the mystery of the late
surgeon's fears. "You will not misunderstand me, Doctor
McMurdoch," he said, "if I venture to ask you one or two rather
personal questions respecting Miss Abingdon?"

Doctor McMurdoch lowered his shaggy brows and looked gloomily at
the speaker. "Mr. Harley," he replied, "I know you by repute for
a man of integrity. But before I answer your questions will you
answer one of mine?"

"Certainly."

"Then my question is this: Does not your interest cease with the
death of your client?"

"Doctor McMurdoch," said Harley, sternly, "you no doubt believe