He nodded in humorous comprehension.  “And your father is away, Max tells me.  I hope you don’t mind being taken by storm like this?  I am sorry to miss him, for we are old friends.  We don’t often meet, as I haven’t a great deal of time at my disposal.  I reserved to-day, however, as I rather particularly wanted to see Max.”

“You will manage to come again perhaps, when Dad is at home,” said Olga.

He smiled courteously.  “I shall certainly try.  And you are his eldest daughter?”

“His only daughter,” she said.  “There are three boys as well.”

“Ah!  And you have been left in charge?”

“Nick and I,” she said; and then moved to sudden confidence, “I expect you have heard of Nick, haven’t you?  Nick Ratcliffe of Wara!  He is an M.P. too.”

“Oh, is he that Ratcliffe?” Her listener displayed immediate interest.  “Yes, of course I have heard of him, Miss Ratcliffe.  He is a man of renown, isn’t he?  It will give me much pleasure to meet him.”

“You’ll like him awfully!” said Olga, with shining eyes.

It was at this point that Nick himself pushed open the door with a peremptory, “Now then, Olga, what about your promise?  Hullo!” He stopped short, and stood blinking rapidly at the visitor.  “I thought it was Hunt-Goring you had got here,” he observed.  “Introduce me, please!”

Olga hesitated in momentary confusion.  “Max didn’t tell me your name, you know,” she said to the stranger.  “This is Captain Ratcliffe of Wara.”

“Monkey!” said Nick briefly.  “Plain Ratcliffe of no-where in particular is my description.”

The big man rose with outstretched hand.  “I know you well by repute, and I am very pleased to meet you.  My name is Whitton—­Kersley Whitton.”

“Goodness!” ejaculated Olga.  “Max might have told me!”

He laughed at her quietly.  “Told you what?  Didn’t he say I was a friend of his?”

“So you’ve been entertaining a celebrity unawares!” laughed Nick.  “I hope you have been on your best behaviour, my child.”

“But Miss Ratcliffe must be accustomed to celebrities,” said Sir Kersley Whitton, “since she has to entertain you and Max Wyndham every day.”

“Is Max a celebrity too, then?” asked Olga quickly.

“He is going to be one,” the great doctor answered, with conviction.

“You mean he will—­someday—­be like you?” she said.

He smiled at that.  “He will be a greater man than I am,” he said.

“An interesting collection!” commented Nick.  “Heroes past, present, and to come!  You will pardon me for putting myself first.  My little halo went out long ago.”

“Nick!  How absurd you are!”

“My dear, it’s my role to be absurd.  I am the clown in every tragedy I come across—­the comic relief man—­the buffoon in every side-show.  Hence my Frontier laurels, because I kept on dancing when everyone else was dead.  The world likes dancers—­virtuous or otherwise.”  Nick broke off with his elastic grimace.  “If I go on, you’ll think I’m trying to be clever.  Sir Kersley, come and have a drink!”