CHAPTER III

ST. WRYTHA'S STAIR


The summarily dismissed assistant, thus left alone, stood
for a moment in evident deep thought before he moved
towards Ransford's desk and picked up the cheque. He
looked at it carefully, folded it neatly, and put it away
in his pocket-book; after that he proceeded to collect a
few possessions of his own, instruments, books from various
drawers and shelves. He was placing these things in a small
hand-bag when a gentle tap sounded on the door by which
patients approached the surgery.

"Come in!" he called.

There was no response, although the door was slightly ajar;
instead, the knock was repeated, and at that Bryce crossed the
room and flung the door open.

A man stood outside--an elderly, slight-figured, quiet-looking
man, who looked at Bryce with a half-deprecating, half-nervous
air; the air of a man who was shy in manner and evidently
fearful of seeming to intrude. Bryce's quick, observant eyes
took him in at a glance, noting a much worn and lined face,
thin grey hair and tired eyes; this was a man, he said to