Both men looked up as Lady Deringham entered the room, carefully closing the door behind her. She had a card in her hand, and an open letter. "Wolfenden," she said. "I am so glad that you are here. It is most fortunate! Something very singular has happened. You will be able to tell me what to do." Mr. Blatherwick rose quietly and left the room. Wolfenden was all attention. "Some one has just arrived," he remarked. "A gentleman, a complete stranger," she assented. "This is his card. He seemed surprised that his name was not familiar to me. He was quite sure that you would know it." Wolfenden took the card between his fingers and read it out. "Mr. Franklin Wilmot." He was thoughtful for a moment. The name was familiar enough, but he could not immediately remember in what connection. Suddenly it flashed into his mind. "Of course!" he exclaimed. "He is a famous physician--a very great swell, goes to Court and all that!" Lady Deringham nodded. "He has introduced himself as a physician. He has brought this letter from Dr. Whitlett." Wolfenden took the note from her hand. It was written on half a sheet of paper, and apparently in great haste:-- "DEAR LADY DERINGHAM,--My old friend, Franklin Wilmot, who has been staying at Cromer, has just called upon me. We have been having a chat, and he is extremely interested in Lord Deringham's case, so much so that I had arranged to come over with him this evening to see if you would care to have his opinion. Unfortunately, however, I have been summoned to attend a patient nearly ten miles away--a bad accident, I fear--and Wilmot is leaving for town to-morrow morning. I suggested, however, that he might call on his way back to Cromer, and if you would kindly let him see Lord Deringham, I should be glad, as his opinion would be of material assistance to me. Wilmot's reputation as the greatest living authority on cases of partial mania is doubtless known to you, and as he never, under any circumstances, visits patients outside London, it would be a great pity to lose this opportunity. "In great haste and begging you to excuse this scrawl, "I am, dear Lady Deringham, "Yours sincerely, "JOHN WHITLETT. "P.S.--You will please not offer him any fee." Wolfenden folded up the letter and returned it. "Well, I suppose it's all right," he said. "It's an odd time, though, to call on an errand of this sort." "So I thought," Lady Deringham agreed; "but Dr. Whitlett's explanation seems perfectly feasible, does it not? I said that I would consult you. You will come in and see him?"