Dr. Levillier took his way upstairs, made a careful toilet, selected from his absurd array of boots a pair perfectly polished, put them on, took his hat and gloves, sighed once again heavily, almost as a dog sighs preparatory to its sleep, and turned to go downstairs.  He forgot for the moment that he was prepared to watch Valentine.  Perhaps, indeed, his long period of absence had dulled in his memory the recollection of any apparent change in his friend.  For at this moment of fatigue he only recalled Valentine’s expression of purity and high-souled health, and the atmosphere of lofty serenity in which he seemed habitually to dwell.  The doctor wanted relief.  How Valentine’s presence would refresh him after this dreary array of patients, after the continuous murmurs of their plaintive voices!  As he opened his bedroom door he perceived his man-servant mounting the stairs.

“Lawler, I can’t see any one,” he said, more hastily than usual.  “I told you so distinctly.  I am going out immediately.”

The man paused.  He had been with the doctor for many years, and both adored and understood him.  The doctor looked at him.

“It is a patient, I suppose?” he asked.

“Well, sir, I can’t exactly say.”

“A lady?”

“Yes, sir.  At least, sir—­well, no, sir.”

“What do you mean?”

“A female, sir.”

“What does she want?”

“To see you, sir.  I can’t get her to go.  I asked her to, sir; then I told her to.”

“Well?”

“She only gave me this and said she’d come to see you, and if you were in she’d wait.”

He handed a card to his master.  The doctor took it and read: 

“Cuckoo Bright, 400 Marylebone Road.”

The words conveyed nothing to his mind, for neither Julian nor Valentine had ever talked to him of the lady of the feathers.

“Cuckoo Bright,” he said.  “An odd name!  And an odd person, I suppose, Lawler?”

Lawler pursed his lips rather primly.

“Very odd, sir.  Not at all a usual sort of patient, sir.”

“H’m.  Go and ask her if she comes as a patient or on private business.”

The man retreated and returned.

“The—­lady says she’s ill and must see you, sir, if only for a moment.”

This was Cuckoo’s ruse to get into the house, and was based upon Julian’s long-ago remark that the doctor could never resist helping any one who was in trouble.  Standing on the doorstep, she had histrionically simulated faintness for the special benefit of Lawler, who regarded her with deep suspicion.

“I suppose I must see her,” the doctor said with a sigh.  “Show her in, Lawler.”