“I wouldn’t have told you, but that I think you ought to know that the woman has an inexplicable grudge against you,” he had said.

“Not inexplicable,” Varick had answered quietly.  “For Julia Pigchalke first came as governess to Wyndfell Hall when my wife was ten years old, and she stayed on with her ultimately as companion—­in fact as more friend than companion.  Of course I queered her pitch!”

And then, rather hesitatingly, he had gone on to tell Dr. Panton that he was now paying his enemy an annuity of a hundred a year.  This had been left to Miss Pigchalke in an early will made by his poor wife, but it had not been repeated in the testatrix’s final will, as Mrs. Varick had fiercely resented Miss Pigchalke’s violent disapproval of her marriage.

Panton had been amazed to hear of Varick’s quite uncalled-for generosity, and he had exclaimed, “Well, that does take the cake!  I wish I’d known this before.  Still, I don’t think Miss Pigchalke will forget in a hurry what I said to her.  I warned her that some of the things she said, or half-said, were libellous, and that it might end very badly for her if she said them again.  She took the line that I, being a doctor, was privileged—­but I assured her that I was nothing of the kind!  Still, she’s a venomous old woman, and if I were you I’d write her a solicitor’s letter.”

That little conversation, which had taken place more than six months ago, came back, word for word, to Varick’s mind, as he walked sharply up and down the platform, trying to get warm.  It was strange how Miss Pigchalke and her vigorous, unpleasant personality haunted him.  But he had found in his passbook only this morning that she had already cashed his last cheque for fifty pounds.  Surely she couldn’t, in decency, go on with this half-insane kind of persecution if she accepted what was, after all, his free and generous gift every six months?

* * * * *

The train came steaming in, and only three passengers got out.  But among them was the man for whom Varick was waiting.  And, at the sight of the lithe, alert figure of Dr. Panton, and of the one-time familiar form of good old Span, Varick’s troubled, uncomfortable thoughts took wings to themselves and flew away.

The two men’s hands met in a firm, friendly grasp.  “This is jolly,” said the younger of the two, as they walked out to the big car.  “And I’m ever so much obliged to you for letting me bring Span!”

And Panton did think it very jolly of Varick to have left his guests, and come all this way through the cold to meet him.  It was good of him, too, to have let him bring his dog.

As they drove slowly through the picturesque High Street of the famous town, Varick’s friend looked about him with keen interest and enjoyment.  He had an eager, intelligent, alert mind, and he had never been to Newmarket before.

Once they got clear of the town, and were speeding through the pleasant, typically English country lanes which give Suffolk a peculiarly soothing charm Span (who was a rather large liver-and-white spaniel), lying stretched out sedately at their feet, Varick suddenly asked carelessly:  “No more news of my enemy, Miss Pigchalke, I suppose?”