“I only left the house at five o’clock,” exclaimed Dr. Panton; and then, as he saw the look of gravity deepen on the other man’s face, he asked:  “Was there a fire there last night?  I trust not!”

“No,” said the other, slowly, “nothing has happened to the house, Dr. Panton.  But your friend Mr. Varick is dead.  He went out for a walk in the dark, and seems to have slipped over the side of an embankment into deep water.  His body was not recovered for some hours—­in fact, not till early this morning.”

Dr. Panton got up from the chair on which he had been sitting.  He was too shocked, too taken aback, to speak, and the other went on: 

“I cannot give you many details, for when Miss Farrow telephoned to me she was very much upset, and the line was very bad.  But I may add that there is no doubt about it, for the news was confirmed, through another source, half an hour later.”

“What a terrible thing!  What an awful—­awful thing!”

The young doctor looked overwhelmed with horror and surprise.  “You must forgive me,” he went on, “if I seem unduly shocked; but I have lost in Lionel Varick one of the best friends man ever had, Mr. Gifford—­I’d have sold the shirt off my back for him and I think I may say he’d have done the same for me.”

Mark Gifford, cautious man though he was, took a sudden resolution.  “If you can spare the time,” he exclaimed, “I wonder, Dr. Panton, if you would go back to Wyndfell Hall to-day?  It would be an act of true kindness to Miss Farrow.  I had thought of going myself; but, as you seem to have been such a friend of Varick’s—?”

“Of course I’ll go down—­by the very first train I can catch!” answered Panton eagerly.

“Perhaps you could persuade Miss Farrow to come up to London at once, and leave all the sad details connected with the inquest, and so on, to you?”

“I will indeed!  Miss Farrow must be terribly distressed, for I know she was a very, very close friend of poor Varick’s.”

Mark Gifford winced—­it was a very slight movement, quite unperceived by Dr. Panton.

To the surprise of his subordinates, who had never seen him do so much honour to any male visitor before, Mr. Gifford accompanied the young medical man along the corridor, down the stone staircase, and through to the great outer arch which gives on to the quiet street.

At the moment of their final parting Dr. Panton exclaimed:  “Am I to understand that Dr. Spiller will not be sending for me again?”

“I thought I had made it clear,” replied Mr. Gifford mildly, “that the matter about which he wished to see you is now closed.”

THE END