saying things. And yet, the worst of it was, there was usually a grain of truth

somewhere in these wild statements. No smoke without fire! They were saying too

that Mr. Ackroyd had found out about it, and had broken off the

engagement—because there _was_ an engagement. She, Miss Ganett, had proof

positive of that. Of course _I_ must know all about it—doctors always did—but

they never tell?

 

And all this with a sharp beady eye on me to see how I reacted to these

suggestions. Fortunately long association with Caroline has led me to preserve

an impassive countenance, and to be ready with small non-committal remarks.

 

On this occasion I congratulated Miss Ganett on not joining in ill-natured

gossip. Rather a neat counterattack, I thought. It left her in difficulties, and

before she could pull herself together, I had passed on.

 

I went home thoughtful, to find several patients waiting for me in the surgery.

 

I had dismissed the last of them, as I thought, and was just contemplating a few

minutes in the garden before lunch when I perceived one more patient waiting for

me. She rose and came towards me as I stood somewhat surprised.

 

I don’t know why I should have been, except that there is a suggestion of cast

iron about Miss Russell, a something that is above the ills of the flesh.

 

Ackroyd’s housekeeper is a tall woman, handsome but forbidding in appearance.