of coffee and a sole, cutlet – anything.”
“Sole! cutlet! My dear fellow, this isn’t London. Give him some ham and eggs, Mrs Milt,” said the doctor. “Now, old fellow,” he continued, as the door closed after the housekeeper a little more loudly than was necessary, “business: what’s the matter? Liver?”
“No, no, my dear Horace. I’m quite well. To consult you about Mrs Berens.”
The doctor pushed back his chair.
“Why, how surprised you look! You recommended her to come to me about her money affairs.”
“Oh! Ah! Yes, of course; so I did. She asked me to give her the name of a London solicitor, and so I gave her yours – my cousin’s.”
“It was very good of you, Horace, for I am a poor man,” said the visitor sleekly. “Far be it from me to quarrel with Uncle Richard’s apportionment of his money, but – ”
“There, for goodness’ sake, don’t bring that up again! You know why the old man excluded you.”
“Yes. I had the misfortune to offend him, Horace,” said the visitor with a sigh.
“And now what about Mrs Berens?”
“Ah, yes; a very simple matter. You are a great friend of hers?”
“I am her doctor.”
“Yes, yes,” said the other, with an unpleasant chuckle, which made North long to kick him; “but if report is true, you are going to marry the handsome widow.”
“Then report is not true,” said North angrily. “Now to business.”
“Well, the fact is this,” said the visitor; “in my capacity of confidential solicitor to several people, I often have to give advice, and to raise money.”
“No doubt,” said the doctor drily.
“I have a client now who wants rather a heavy sum upon the security of some leasehold houses. Mrs Berens has money lying in the Three per Cents., and I thought that you, as her friend, might advise her. She would get six per cent, instead of three, and a word from you – ”
“Will never induce a lady patient of mine to run any risks,” said the doctor shortly.
“Risks?”
“Breakfast’s ready,” said the doctor abruptly, and he led the way into the other room. Having sufficient wisdom not to recommence the attack, Cousin Thompson contented himself with breakfasting heartily, but he was not pleasant over his feeding; and, what was more, he had a way of bringing into every room he entered an odour of mouldy parchment.
After breakfast Cousin Thompson had an interview with Mrs Berens; and after that, without consulting his cousin, he walked across to the Hall to hold a meeting, not unconnected with money matters, with Tom Candlish. Had he consulted his cousin, he would have known that in all probability Tom Candlish had gone to the meet, especially as he rarely missed a run.
Consequently, Cousin Thompson returned to the doctor’s, to find him chafing over his disappointment. Not that he was a hunting man; but the whim had seized him to go, and the appearance of Leo Salis had helped to make the ride more attractive than it might have appeared at another time.
“Ah, Horace, my dear fellow,” he said, “I shall have to trespass on your hospitality for dinner, and then ask you to give me a bed.”
“All right,” said the doctor gruffly. “Give you a dose too, if you like.”
“Thanks, no, unless you mean wine.”
“Oh, yes, I’ll give you a glass of port,” said the doctor. “I hope you haven’t persuaded that poor woman to invest in anything risky.”
“Now, my dear Horace, what do you take me for?” cried Cousin Thompson.
“A lawyer.”
“But there are good lawyers and bad lawyers.”
“Well, from a legal point of view, you’re a bad lawyer. I never gave you but one case to conduct for me, and that you lost.”
“The barrister lost it, my dear Horace. Don’t be afraid. I am not a legal pickpocket. I might retaliate, and say you’re a bad doctor.”
“Well, so I am – horribly bad. The amount of ignorance that exists in my brain, sir, is truly frightful.”
“But you go on curing people.”
“Trying to cure people, sir, you mean. Wading about in deep water; groping in the darkness. Thank Heaven, sir, that you were not made a doctor. Eh, what is it – some one ill?” he cried, as Mrs Milt entered the room with a note.
“Poor somebody!” said Cousin Thompson to himself.
“Note from the Rectory, sir.”
“Oh!” ejaculated the doctor; “shan’t be able to go, as you are here. Wants me to play a game at chess. Salis, you know.”
As he spoke he leisurely unfastened the envelope, and began to read.
“Good heavens!” he exclaimed. “Mrs Milt, attend to my cousin as if I were here. Very sorry. Serious case,” he continued, turning to his guest; and the next minute he had hurried from the house, to set off almost at a run for the Rectory.
For Hartley Salis’ note was very brief, but none the less urgent, containing as it did these words:
“For Heaven’s sake, come on! Leo has had a serious fall.”
Chapter Fifteen.
A Refractory Patient
Leo made light of her accident, though her shoulder was a good deal hurt, and she bore the bandaging of what was a serious wrench with the greatest fortitude. As North learned by degrees, there had been a magnificent run, but towards the last, when Leo was almost heading the field, the mare had become unmanageable, and had rushed at a dangerous jump, with the result that she fell, threw her rider on the bank of the deep little river, and, in her efforts to rise, entangled herself with Leo’s habit, and rolled with her right into the water.
“A most providential escape,” said Salis, who looked pale with anxiety.
“What nonsense, Hartley!” said the girl; “a bit of a bruise on the shoulder and a wetting.”
“Yes, but you would have been drowned if the gentlemen of the hunt had not galloped up to your aid.”
“But they always do gallop up to a lady’s aid if her horse falls,” said Leo, speaking excitedly. “There, don’t make so much of it; and it was utterly absurd, Hartley, for you to send for a doctor for such a trifle.”
“Trifle or no, Miss Salis,” said the doctor, “I should advise your seeking your bed at once.”
“Nonsense, Dr North!”
“Well, then, I must insist,” he said firmly.
“Oh, very well,” said Leo; “I suppose you are master, so I have no more to say.
