"He should be seen," said Sir Willoughby, "by a specialist without his knowing it. I can't go down. Later, I may be of use. I hope you won't need me. The obvious thing to do is to get him away. But, if you can't do that, no one can--peaceably. D'you think you could try again?" "I feel it would be waste of time," said Valerie. "You say some one should see him. Can you tell me who to go to?" "D'you know Dr. Heron?" Valerie shook her head. "He assists me a lot. If he can go, I know of no one better. Would you like me to speak to him?" "I should be very grateful." Sir Willoughby pressed a bell. To his secretary, who answered the summons-- "I want to speak to Dr. Heron," he said. In silence the girl withdrew. Whilst the two were waiting, the physician spoke very kindly. "I'm not going to express any opinion, because it would be valueless. It's clear that there's something wrong, but I've seen so many recoveries." "Which you have brought about," smiled Valerie. "I can never do more than contribute. I can only advise. It is the executive that works the cure. That's why I'm so hopeful about Major Lyveden." "The executive?" "Such as the devotion of relatives." "He has no relatives." "Or, better still," said the doctor, "the love of a great-hearted lady." The muffled bell of a telephone interrupted. "Excuse me." He picked up the receiver. "Is that you, Heron? ... Can you see a friend of mine this afternoon? ... At four-thirty?" Sir Willoughby looked at Valerie with raised eyebrows. She nodded quickly. "Yes. That'll do ... Miss French. Miss Valerie French ... A case in the country ... Urgent ... She wants your report. I won't say any more. She'll tell you better than I. Ring me up, if you like, before you go. Good-bye." He pushed the instrument away and turned to Valerie. "I'll have another word with him when you've told him your tale." "Thank you so very much." Having laid three guineas upon the table under the decent cover of a photograph frame, Valerie rose to her feet. Sir Willoughby rose also and passed to the door. As he held it open, he put out his hand. Valerie took it and held it. "Nobody could have been kinder," she said. The physician smiled. "Try not to worry," he said. "I haven't seen Gramarye, but I don't think she'll stay the course. Not if you set the pace...." * * * * * It was the following Sunday morning that, after considerable hesitation, Lyveden issued an order which he could well have spared. The instruction was addressed to the younger of his two carters, and was touching the man and the dog-cart and a seven-mile drive. In a word, it had become expedient that Major Anthony Lyveden should go up to Town.