"We never like fighting, if a matter can be arranged amicably," I
answered. "Mr. Craven is at present out of town; but I know I am only
speaking his words, when I say we shall be glad to advise Miss Blake to
accept any reasonable proposition which you may feel inclined to make."

"I have sent her half a year's rent," was his reply; "and I have
refrained from prosecuting you all for conspiracy, as I am told I might
have done. Lawyers, I am aware, admit they have no consciences, and I
can make some allowance for a person in Miss Blake's position,
otherwise."

"Yes, sir?" I said, interrogatively.

"I should never have paid one penny. It has, I find, been a well-known
fact to Mr. Craven, as well as to Miss Blake, that no tenant can remain
in River Hall. When my wife was first taken ill there--in consequence of
the frightful shock she received--I sent for the nearest medical man,
and he refused to come; absolutely sent me a note, saying, 'he was very
sorry, but he must decline to attend Mrs. Morris. Doubtless, she had her
own physician, who would be happy to devote himself to the case.'"

"And what did you do?" I asked, my pulses tingling with awakened
curiosity.

"Do!" he repeated, pleased, perhaps, to find so appreciative a listener.
"I sent, of course, for the best advice to be had in London, and I went
to the local doctor--a man who keeps a surgery and dispenses
medicines--myself, to ask what he meant by returning such an insolent
message in answer to my summons. And what do you suppose he said by way