their pocket," retorted the disingenuous lady. "If I turned him out
of my house, doctor, and anything happened to him, I should have to
reckon with his people. He stays here. You'll kindly arrange for
nurses. The red room, Wilkins,--no, the green--the one with the
small oak bed. You can't nurse people properly in four-posters. It
has a south-east aspect"--she turned to the doctor--"and so gets
the sun most of the day. That's quite right, isn't it?"

"Ideal. But I warn you, Miss Winwood, you may be letting yourself in
for a perfectly avoidable lot of trouble."

"I like trouble," said Miss Winwood.

"You're certainly looking for it," replied the doctor glancing at
Paul and stuffing his stethoscope into his pocket. "And in this
case, I can promise you worry beyond dreams of anxiety."

The word of Ursula Winwood was law for miles around. Dr. Fuller,
rosy, fat and fifty, obeyed, like everyone else; but during the
process of law-making he had often, before now, played the part of
an urbane and gently satirical leader of the opposition.

She flashed round on him, with a foolish pain through her heart that
caused her to catch her breath. "Is he as bad as that?" she asked
quickly.

"As bad as that," said the doctor, with grave significance. "How he
managed to get here is a mystery!" Within a quarter-of-an-hour the
unconscious Paul, clad in a suit of Colonel Winwood's silk pyjamas,
lay in a fragrant room, hung with green and furnished in old, black