“It’s not that at all,” said Max curtly.  “I can’t stop to argue, so please make up your mind what you are going to do.  I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into the discussion, Ratcliffe.  I daresay it seems a senseless one to you, but I have my reasons.”

Nick looked at him for a moment, a quick gleam of comprehension behind his flickering eyelids.  “It won’t hurt you to take Mitchel, Olga mia,” he said.

“Oh, Nick!” There was deep reproach in Olga’s voice, and at sound of it Max smiled with dry humour.

Nick laughed outright, openly heartless.  “My beloved chicken, who is making mountains out of molehills now?  I would escort you myself if I hadn’t got to attend this committee meeting in town,—­a million plagues upon it!  Come along and open my letters for me!  We are wasting time.”

“I do think you needn’t take his part,” said Olga, as Max disappeared into the surgery.  “He’s quite bullying and tyrannical enough without that.”

“I’m inclined to sympathize with the young man myself,” said Nick.  “He wouldn’t bully you if you weren’t so nasty.”

“Nick, I’m not nasty!”

“I should detest you if I were Max,” said Nick, squeezing her affectionately with his one wiry arm.

“It isn’t my fault we are antipathetic,” protested Olga.  “For goodness’ sake, Nick, don’t start liking him!  But I’m sure you don’t in your heart of hearts.  You simply couldn’t.”

“Why not?” said Nick.

“Oh, Nick, you don’t!  You know you don’t!  He’s so cold-blooded and cynical.”

“Do you want to know what he was up to last night?” said Nick.

“Yes, tell me!” said Olga.

“He was sent for last thing by some people who live in that filthy alley—­near the green pond.  A child was choking.  They thought it had swallowed a pin.  When he got there, he found it was diphtheria at its most advanced stage.  The child was at death’s door.  He had to perform an operation at a moment’s notice, hadn’t got the proper paraphernalia with him, and sucked the poison out himself.”

“Good heavens, Nick!” said Olga, turning very white.  “And the child?”

“The child is better.  It is to be taken to the hospital to-day.”

“Will it—­won’t it—­have an effect on him?” gasped Olga.

“Heavens knows,” said Nick.

“And that’s why he didn’t come down to breakfast,” she said.  “How did you find out about it?  He didn’t tell you?”

“He couldn’t help it,” said Nick.  “He stole my bath this morning, and when I arrived he was lying in it face downwards boiling himself in some filthy disinfectant that made the bathroom temporarily uninhabitable.  Naturally I lodged a complaint, and finally got at the whole story.  By the way, he said I wasn’ to tell you; but I told him I probably should.  That’s only a detail, but I mention it in case you should be tempted to broach the subject to him.  I shouldn’t advise you to do so, as I think you will probably find him rather touchy about it.”