of apology?"

"I cannot imagine," I replied.

"He said he would not for ten times over the value of all the River
Hall patients, attend a case in the house again. 'No person can live in
it,' he went on, 'and keep his, her, or its health. Whether it is the
river, or the drains, or the late owner, or the devil, I have not an
idea. I can only tell you no one has been able to remain in it since
Mr. Elmsdale's death, and if I attend a case there, of course I say,
Get out of this at once. Then comes Miss Blake and threatens me with
assault and battery--swears she will bring an action against me for
libelling the place; declares I wish to drive her and her niece to the
workhouse, and asserts I am in league with some one who wants to keep
the house vacant, and I am sick of it. Get what doctor you choose, but
don't send for me.'"

"Well, sir?" I suggested.

"Well! I don't consider it well at all. Here am I, a man returning to
his native country--and a beastly country it is!--after nearly thirty
years' absence, and the first transaction upon which I engage proves a
swindle. Yes, a swindle, Mr. Patterson. I went to you in all good faith,
took that house at your own rent, thought I had got a desirable home,
and believed I was dealing with respectable people, and now I find I was
utterly deceived, both as regards the place and your probity. You knew
the house was uninhabitable, and yet you let it to me."

"I give you my word," I said, "that we really do not know yet in what
way the house is uninhabitable. It is a good house, as you know; it is