“Poor, too?” Gregory looked round. “You haven’t a shilling in the world, I’ll bet!”
“There you are wrong,” said old Mr. Longvale quietly. “I am an extremely wealthy man, and the fact that I do not keep my house in repair is due to the curious penchant of mine for decaying things. That is an unhealthy, probably a morbid predilection of mine. How did you know I was a doctor?”
“I heard through one of my servants. You set the broken finger of a carter.”
“I haven’t practised for years,” said Mr. Longvale. “I almost wish I had,” he added wistfully. “It is a noble science——”
“Anyway,” interrupted Penne, “even if you can’t be bought, you’re a secretive old devil, and that suits me. There’s a girl up at my house who is very ill. I don’t want any of these prying country doctors nosing around my private affairs. Would you come along and see her?”
The old man pursed his lips thoughtfully.
“I should be most happy,” he said, “but I am afraid my medical science is a little rusty. Is she a servant?”
“In a way,” said the other shortly. “When can you come?”
“I’ll come at once,” said Mr. Longvale gravely, and went out, to return in his greatcoat.
The baronet looked at the ancient garment with a smile of derision.