So much for Basil Bastin. Now for Bickley. Him I had met on
several occasions since our college days, and after I was settled
at the Priory from time to time I asked him to stay with me. At
length he came, and I found out that he was not at all
comfortable in his London practice which was of a nature
uncongenial to him; further, that he did not get on with his
partners. Then, after reflection, I made a suggestion to him. I
pointed out that, owing to its popularity amongst seaside
visitors, the neighbourhood of Fulcombe was a rising one, and
that although there were doctors in it, there was no really
first-class surgeon for miles.

Now Bickley was a first-class surgeon, having held very high
hospital appointments, and indeed still holding them. Why, I
asked, should he not come and set up here on his own? I would
appoint him doctor to the estate and also give him charge of a
cottage hospital which I was endowing, with liberty to build and
arrange it as he liked. Further, as I considered that it would be
of great advantage to me to have a man of real ability within
reach, I would guarantee for three years whatever income he was
earning in London.

He thanked me warmly and in the end acted on the idea, with
startling results so far as his prospects were concerned. Very
soon his really remarkable skill became known and he was earning
more money than as an unmarried man he could possibly want.
Indeed, scarcely a big operation took place at any town within
twenty miles, and even much farther away, at which he was not
called in to assist.