"A walking tour at one o'clock in the morning!" "It wasn't one o'clock when I started. I've been where you found me for hours and hours." "Where were you making for?" "I've told you, I was going to Carnoustie." "Going from Carnoustie, you mean. You'll never be finding it in this part of the country." "I daresay. Since it became dark I've been hobbling round about just anywhere. I don't know where I am; I've lost myself completely." He was silent, as if he found something in her words which made him think. Then she took up the _rôle_ of questioner: "Where are you going?" "To a man that's dying." "Are you a doctor?" "It's my trade." "Then you'll be able to look at my ankle. I hope it's nothing serious, but it seems to be getting worse instead of better." "I'll look at your ankle, never fear. I'll find you an easier patient than the one I'm bound for." Little more was said on either side. The doctor seemed to be by nature a taciturn man, or perhaps he was too preoccupied for speech. Isabel was feeling too miserable to talk. She was cold and wet; her ankle was occasioning her no little pain. She could hardly have been less inclined for conversation, and she, also, had at times a gift of silence. During the twenty or thirty minutes the drive continued probably not half-a-dozen words were exchanged. At last the doctor brought his mare to a standstill. "I suppose you couldn't get down and open a gate? There's one right in front of us. I can see it's closed." His eyes must have had the cat's quality of being able to penetrate the darkness; she could see nothing. "I might be able to get down--if I had to tumble, but I doubt if I'd ever be able to get up again." He grunted as if in disapprobation. "Can you hold the reins while I get down?" "I daresay I could do that." He passed her the reins and descended. She heard a gate swing back upon its hinges. He reappeared at the horse's head. "I'd better lead her through and up to the house; it's as black as the devil's painted under the trees. I ought to have brought my lamps, but I came away in such a hurry. When some folks are dying they will not wait." They passed through a darkness which was so intense that she could not see the horse which was drawing her on. The avenue seemed a long one. It was some minutes before, drawing clear of the overhanging foliage, they stopped in front of a house which loomed grim and ominous in the shadows. Apparently their approach had been heard. No sooner had they stopped than the door was thrown wide open. The figure of a woman was seen peering out into the darkness, with a lamp in her hand. "Is it the doctor?" she demanded. "Yes, it's the doctor. And how is he now?" "He's as near to death as he can be to be still alive. I believe he's only keeping the breath in his body till he gets a sight of you." "To be sure that's uncommonly good of him. Now, madam, will that ankle of yours permit you to tumble down with the help of a hand from me?"