She went up to her bedroom and paced up and down restlessly. Leaning out of the wide open window, she could hear nothing from the direction of Bittle’s house. Looking the other way, she could see the black shape of Carn’s cottage. There was a light in one downstairs window: apparently the doctor had not yet retired. She thought of going round and chatting to him until the time had run out, for if all was well and the Saint arrived and found her out he would be sure to try Carn first for news of her. For a little while she hesitated: her acquaintance with Carn was very slight. But in a moment the sound of the windows downstairs being closed and secured filled her with an unreasoning panic. She opened her door and flew down the stairs. She could hear Miss Girton pacing heavily across the lounge; but she sped past the door as silently as she could, crossed the hall, and let herself out. The cool breath of the night air restored her to reason, but she did not turn back. She closed the door without a sound and walked resolutely round to Carn’s house. Her ring was answered at once by the man himself, and she remembered that he kept no servant on the premises. The doctor’s genial red face was one florid expression of surprise. “My dear Miss Holm!” “Am I disturbing you?” she smiled. “I began to feel terribly dull and depressed, and I thought a little course of you would be a tonic. That is, if you can bear it?” He became aware of the fact that he was preventing her from entering, and stood aside. “You honour me,” he said. “But I’m quite alone. . . .” “Doctors are above suspicion, aren’t they?” she laughed. “And I promise to behave.” He still seemed a little self-conscious, but led the way into his study. She was a little puzzled at his awkwardness, and wondered why even such an uncouth man as he had not been smoothed down by his professional training. Nevertheless, his manner, if ungraceful, was plainly irreproachable. He brought up an armchair for her and swept a mass of papers off the table into a drawer. She noticed that there were some sections of large-scale surveys among them, and he explained: “I’m interested in geology as well as bugs, you know. I’m afraid you’d find it rather a dull subject, but it amuses me. And I’m very interested in my fellow-men.” Before she realised what she was doing, she had asked his opinion of Simon Templar. “Templar? A very interesting specimen. I don’t think I can make a pronouncement yet—I met him for the first time to-day. A very—er—unusual young man, but quite charming to talk to.” Carn did not seem to wish to continue the analysis, and she was left with the idea that he would prefer to be sure of her estimate of the Saint before committing himself. “Would you like some tea? Or some ginger-beer? It’s all I’ve got in the house.” “No, thanks, if you don’t mind.” She thought. “It’s rather difficult. . . . You see—— Is Mr. Templar in any danger?”