Tom stared at his aunt for a moment, then the mist began to clear away. It now struck him that he had never met the Doctor in Harley Street except during the time that his sister was on a visit there, and it also occurred to him now, that on his last flying visit to Devonshire he had met a gentleman much resembling Doctor Ashburnham, riding with Julia in one of the green lanes in Vellenaux. It was all dear enough now, it was Julia's lover who had given him so much concern of late, and this fact removed a great load from Tom's heart. On this discovery his face brightened up. "But, my dear aunt, is there really anything in it."
"Anything in what?" enquired the good lady, looking up from her knitting, somewhat amused at the manner in which her nephew had put the question.
"Why, I mean, is there any love affair, engagement or that sort of thing between Julia and the Doctor?"
"Well, Tom, all I can say is, that Doctor Ashburnham seldom calls here except during the time your sister is in London, or occasionally pays us a visit to enquire when she is likely to be in town again. They have met, I believe, in Devonshire, and he has visited her at the Willows. He is certainly very attentive to her when she is with us, and she appears to be anything but indifferent to his addresses; you can draw your own conclusions from that, but, as I before stated, she will be here next week and then, perhaps, she may take you into her confidence. I can say no more on the matter."
"By George! I hope it is as you say. It would be a capital match for her. He has a first rate practice, keeps quite a stylish turn out, and occupies a handsome house in Cavendish Square. I must become more intimate with him, and see if I cannot worm out exactly what he is driving at." Here Tom took his hat, and started down stairs three steps at a time, nearly upsetting the Doctor in the hall in his great hurry. "Beg pardon, my dear sir, quite accidental I assure you; in haste to speak to Mr. Cotterell in the library," said Tom apologetically.
"Don't mention it, pray, Mr. Barton," was the reply, as that gentleman quickly ascended the staircase leading to the drawing room.
Now, Tom really had no business with Mr. Cotterell that evening, nor would he have intruded on that worthy person, but for his encounter with the Doctor. He would, he thought, not remain long with his aunt, and it would be a good opportunity to push his enquiries, could he but manage to go out with him. His anticipations proved correct. The Doctor did not remain long up stairs, and our friend Tom managed to meet him again as he was passing through the hall.
"Fine evening, sir; which way are you walking?" said Tom, seeing no vehicle in attendance.
"I am returning to Cavendish Square, sir," was the ready reply.
"I also am going in that direction, and if you have no objection will walk with you," returned Tom Barton. The two gentlemen walked together, chatting in a very friendly way on the different topics of the day until they had reached the door of the Doctor's residence, when that gentleman surprised Tom by saying, "Mr. Barton, will you do me the favor to step in for a few moments? I wish to speak to you on a subject that cannot very well be discussed in the public street." Nothing loath, Tom agreed and was ushered into a very snug apartment, half library, half smoking divan.