"D'you mind this window down?" he asked.
"Not at all—I should prefer it. It's close to-night."
The stranger nodded.
"I generally find it so in town—after Brighton, where I live."
McTaggart drew a breath of relief as the air circulated freely. His face was flushed from his hurried meal, his blue eyes bright with excitement.
"I expect you do." He opened his paper, not in the mood for conversation, carelessly skimming down the news, his mind partially abstracted.
But suddenly an exclamation broke, unconsciously, from his lips. He bent forward so that the light fell full on the sheet before him.
For a paragraph had caught his attention.
"Tragic Fate of a Harley Street Doctor." The headline was in leaded type. He read it through with amazement.
It could not be...? Yes—it was! The specialist he had consulted about his heart four years ago. The great man was insane! The paper danced before his eyes...