Doctor McMurdoch was now staring hard at the speaker.

"You may also know," Harley continued, "that there was an
attempted burglary here less than a week ago."

"I know that," admitted the other, "but it counts for little.
There have been several burglaries in the neighbourhood of late."

Harley perceived that Doctor McMurdoch was one of those
characters, not uncommon north of the Tweed, who, if slow in
forming an opinion, once having done so cling to it as tightly as
any barnacle.

"You may be right and I may be wrong," Harley admitted, "but
while your professional business with Sir Charles unfortunately
is ended, mine is only beginning. May I count upon you to advise
me of Miss Abingdon's return? I particularly wish to see her, and
I should prefer to meet her in the capacity of a friend rather
than in that of a professional investigator."

"At the earliest moment that I can decently arrange a meeting,"
replied Doctor McMurdoch, "I will communicate with you, Mr.
Harley. I am just cudgelling my brains at the moment to think how
the news is to be broken to her. Poor little Phil! He was all she
had."

"I wish I could help you," declared Harley with sincerity, "but
in the circumstances any suggestion of mine would be mere
impertinence." He held out his hand to the doctor.