"Mr. Putney," said the doctor, with a twinkle of his blue eyes, "is one of those uncommon people who have enemies. He has a good many because he's a man that thinks, and then says what he thinks. But he's his own worst enemy, because from time to time he gets drunk."
"A character," said Matt. "Do you think he's a safe one? Doesn't his getting drunk from time to time interfere with his usefulness?"
"Well, of course," said the doctor. "It's bad for him; but I think it's slowly getting better. Yes, decidedly. It's very extraordinary, but ever since he's been in charge of the Miss Northwicks' interests—"
"Yes; that's what I was thinking of."
"He's kept perfectly straight. It's as if the responsibilities had steadied him."
"But if he goes on sprees, he may be on the verge of one that's gathering violence from its postponement," Matt suggested.
"I think not," said the doctor after a moment. "But of course I can't tell."
"They trust him so implicitly," said Matt.
"I know," said the doctor. "And I know that he's entirely devoted to them. The fact is, Putney's a very dear friend of mine."
"Oh, excuse me—"