“You haven’t anybody ill, have you?” he asked, “I promised my partner I wouldn’t look at a patient for three months. You see,” he explained, “I’ve had rather a heavy time lately, and I’m a bit run down.” “You’d be doing us a real kindness if you’d look at this young lady,” said Mr. Lewinstein earnestly. “I don’t know what to make of her, doctor.” “Setheridge is my name,” said the doctor. “All right, I’ll look at your patient. It was ungracious of me to pull a face I suppose. Where is she? Is she one of your guests by the way? I seem to have butted in on a party.” “Not exactly,” Mr. Lewinstein hesitated, “she is--er--a visitor.” He led the way up to the room, and the young man walked in and looked at the shivering girl with the easy confident smile of the experienced practitioner. “Hullo,” he said, “what’s the matter with you?” He took her wrist in his hand and looked at his watch, and Mr. Lewinstein, standing in the open doorway, saw him frown. He bent down and examined the eyes, then pulled up the sleeve of his patient’s dress and whistled. “Is it serious?” she asked anxiously. “Not very, if you are taken care of; though you may lose some of that hair,” he said, with a smile at the brown mop on the pillow. “What is it?” she asked. “Scarlet fever, my young friend.” “Scarlet fever!” It was Mr. Lewinstein who gasped the words. “You don’t mean that?” The doctor walked out and joined him on the landing, closing the door behind him. “It’s scarlet fever, all right. Have you any idea where she was infected?” “Scarlet fever,” moaned Mr. Lewinstein; “and I’ve got the house full of aristocracy!” “Well, the best thing you can do is to keep the aristocracy in ignorance of the fact. Get the girl out of the house.” “But how? How?” wailed Mr. Lewinstein. The doctor scratched his head. “Of course, I don’t want to do it,” he said slowly; “but I can’t very well leave a girl in a mess like this. May I use your telephone?” “Certainly, use anything you like; but, for goodness’ sake, get the girl away!” Mr. Lewinstein showed him the library, where the young man called up a number and gave some instructions. Apparently his telephone interview was satisfactory, for he came back to the hall, where Mr. Lewinstein was nervously drumming his fingers on the polished surface of a table, with a smile. “I can get an ambulance out here, but not before three in the morning,” he said; “anyway, that will suit us, because your guests will be abed and asleep by then, and most of the servants also, I suppose. And we can get her out without anybody being the wiser.” “I’m awfully obliged to you, doctor,” said Mr. Lewinstein, “anything you like to charge me----” The doctor waved fees out of consideration. Then a thought occurred to Mr. Lewinstein. “Doctor, could that disease be communicated to the girl by means of a drug, or anything?” “Why do you ask?” said the other quickly.