_You did not tell me the nature of your trouble, so that I can offer no counsel; if, as I suspect, it concerns the man of whom you have already written to me, remember, for what it is worth, that my faith in him has never wavered from the moment you told me that he had won your love._ _Your affectionate uncle, JOHN FOREST._ To the prelate, who framed it, that letter was the best he could do: to Miss Valerie French, who received it, it was a great disappointment: and to an eminent brain-specialist, who had never heard of it, it was worth exactly three guineas. * * * * * "I should have come to you before," said Valerie, "but I was expecting my uncle, and wanted to ask his advice before I took such a step. But now he's delayed, and I can't wait any longer." Sir Willoughby Sperm leaned forward and picked up a pen. "One moment," he said, taking a sheet from a drawer. "Now then. What is the patient's name?" "Major Anthony Lyveden, D.S.O.," said Valerie. "L-Y-V-E-D-E-N." The name was entered. "Yes. Address?" Valerie hesitated. Then-- "Gramarye, Chipping Norton," she said. The address went down. "Age?" "I think about thirty." "Wounded?" "Not that I know of." "When did you see him last?" "Eleven days ago." "And before that?" "Not for three months." "And his demeanour had changed in the interval?" "Exactly." "Are you engaged to him?" "No." "Were you engaged to him?" "Practically." "And it was broken off?" "I broke it off." "Why?" "I suspected him of inconstancy." "Did you tell him so?" "No." "And he?" "He left the neighbourhood." "That was three months ago?" "Yes." "Was your meeting eleven days ago accidental or by arrangement?" "I visited him unexpectedly." "In the hope of reconciliation?" "Yes." "How did he take it?" "Most handsomely." "The reconciliation was effected?" "Yes." "But his demeanour has changed?" "Yes." "In what way?" "He seems infatuated with his work." "To the exclusion of you?" "Exactly. It's as if in the interval he'd become a priest, and, although he still loved me, he was no longer free." "What is his work?" "Restoring an estate--the place he lives at--Gramarye. It's a very large estate--nearly all woods--and it's been entirely neglected for a number of years. He and some others, including the owner, are working to get it straight--re-making roads, building bridges, cutting down trees. It sounds Quixotic, but I can see the fascination. Besides, he took the work of necessity. He's very poor." "He seemed to consider himself devoted to the service of the estate?" "Exactly." "Did he exhibit any one particular mental symptom?" "He heard things which I could not hear." "Did he say what they were?" "Trumpets." "Anything else?" "When he heard them, his eyes..." Valerie hesitated. "Yes?" "--were the eyes of a fanatic." There was a long silence, while the pen was busy upon the broad sheet. Then--