It pealed again before he reached the door, and the doctor frowned. He was never very tolerant of impatience. He unfastened the bolts without haste. The case might be urgent, but a steady hand and cool nerve were usually even more essential than speed in his opinion. He opened the door therefore with a certain deliberation, and faced the sharp night air with grim resignation. "Well? Who is it? Come in!" He expected to see some village messenger, and the sight of Piers, stern-faced, with the fur collar of his motor-coat turned up to his ears, was a complete surprise. "Hullo!" he said, staring at him. "Anything wrong?" Piers stared back with eyes of burning hostility. "I want a word with you," he announced curtly. "Will you come out, or shall I come in?" "You'd better come in," said Tudor, suppressing a shiver, "unless I'm wanted up at the Abbey." "You're not," said Piers. He stepped into the passage, and impetuously stripped off his heavy coat. Tudor shut the door, and turned round. He surveyed his visitor's evening-dress with a touch of contempt. He himself was clad in an ancient smoking-jacket, much frayed at the cuffs; and his carpet-slippers were so trodden down at the heel that he could only just manage to shuffle along in them. "Go into the consulting-room!" he said. "There's a light there." Piers strode in, and waited for him. Seen by the light of the gas that burned there, his face was pale and set in lines of iron determination. His eyes shone out of it like the eyes of an infuriated wild beast. "Do you know what I've come for?" he said, as Tudor shambled into the room. Tudor looked him over briefly and comprehensively. "No, I don't," he said. "I hoped I'd seen the last of you." His words were as brief as his look. It was obvious that he had no intention of wasting time in mere courtesy. Piers' lips tightened at his tone. He looked full and straight at the baffling glasses that hid the other man's contemptuous eyes. "I've come for a reckoning with you," he said. "Really?" said Tudor. He glanced again at the clock. "Rather an unusual hour, isn't it?" Piers passed the question by. He was chafing on his feet like a caged animal. Abruptly he came to the point. "I told you the other day that I wouldn't put up with any interference from you. I didn't know then how far your interference had gone. I do know now. This scheme to get me out of the country was of your contrivance." Fiercely he flung the words. He was quivering with passionate indignation. But the effect on Tudor was scarcely perceptible. He only looked a little colder, a little more satirical, than was his wont. "Well?" he said. "What of it?" Piers showed his teeth momentarily. His hands were hard gripped behind him, as though he restrained himself by main force from open violence. "You don't deny it?" he said. "Why should I?" Tudor's thin lips displayed a faint sneer. "I certainly advised your grandfather to go away, and I think the advice was sound."