"As a matter of fact a man named Bush has been to see my mother. I dare not tell Dr. Heathcote; at one time I fancy Bush did her good, or she got better naturally, but she believes in him. He hasn't been for some time now, but she was speaking of him the other day."
"I'll look up my man's card and send it on to you," said Quarles. "You get Mrs. Crosland to see him, never mind Dr. Heathcote."
"I didn't know you had suffered from rheumatism," I said to Quarles as we left the house.
"Didn't you! Have it now sometimes. Well, Wigan, what do you make of this affair? Do you think the burglars are responsible?"
"I want time to think."
"We'll just call in and see Dr. Heathcote," said Quarles.
The doctor was a young man rather overburdened with his own importance. He was inclined to think that Crosland had done Grange Park a service by shooting one of the burglar gang.
"I only hope the authorities won't get sentimental and make it needlessly unpleasant for him."
"I shouldn't think so," I returned. "I may take it, doctor, that the man had been dead only a short time when you saw him?"
"Quite. Death must have been practically instantaneous."