Dr. Stanforth was a princely, not to say kingly, liar. When he did a thing, he did it royally, and he lied without niggardliness and with the precision of an actuary. Perhaps this peculiar trait in Dr. Stanforth’s character had recommended him to Mr. Crowe’s favour. Be this as it may, the latter was well pleased to hear that mushrooms could have had no possible connection with his wife’s death. He was willing to waive his superior physiological attainments in favour of his colleague’s statistics. So far from pressing his opinion with his usual persistence, he bowed in acquiescence, and thereby flattered Dr. Stanforth immensely. Of course it would have been most unpleasant to have had an inquest, and this admirable certificate saved all that annoyance. Both the insurance companies paid the money, and Mr. Crowe seemed disposed to bear his bereavement with exemplary resignation. He went on with his work much as before, solacing himself, however, with frequent visits to Aunt Janet and Mildred. Both ladies felt it their duty to be as kind and sympathetic as possible, and he was urged to visit them as often as he conveniently could. They got up nice little dinner parties for him; and as Mildred, in her kind, consoling way, did her best to solace the widower in his affliction, he began to hope he was daily growing in her favour. He did his best to throw cold water on her hospital scheme, as he foresaw such a project would be most prejudicial to his order, and would set an example that would be surely followed by other faddists, much to the injury of scientific medicine; but he had to be guarded in his treatment of this subject, because he saw the new object was deeply set in the hearts of both ladies. When he found it was hopeless to try and hinder it, and that it was an accomplished fact, he set to work to turn the scheme to his own advantage. But to little purpose. There was no chance for him at Nightingale House. His peculiarities and principles were too well known to be disguised, and nobody believed he was capable of conversion. But gradually it came to be noticed that everybody was fighting shy of Mr. Crowe. The most unpleasant rumours about the cause of his wife’s death were in the air. Nobody spoke out, nobody seemed to know anything precisely; but all at once Mr. Crowe was blown upon.