“Listen to me, Hume, in your turn. In the first place, I don’t understand why you show me such an aggressive front. And, anyhow, you exaggerate the importance of your position. You merely happen to be the first doctor of whom I could think. Your business is to make a medical examination; so far, in that direction, I cannot say that I have seen you make any undue exertions. To suggest that your office is, in any sense, judicial, is sheer absurdity. We will stop at that. Some men would have regarded the questions which you have put to me as intentionally impertinent. I have enough acquaintance with you to know that it is your unfortunate manner which is to blame, and that your intention was innocuous. “But let me add this: I know nothing of Mr. Philip Lawrence; I have never seen the man in my life. But, since he was seen to leave the building at an early hour this morning, in a somewhat curious fashion, exhibiting all the marks of haste; and since his brother has now been found here lying dead, I think, in spite of your ardent championship, he will be called upon to give some sort of explanation.” Why Hume behaved as he immediately did is beyond my comprehension. He came close up to me, looking me full in the face, in distinctly unfriendly fashion. “Then I say you lie.” He said it quietly--it is not his custom to speak loudly--but he said it with unmistakable decision. While I was wondering whether or not I should knock the fellow down, Atkins came in with a policeman at his heels. It was time. CHAPTER V. A CURIOUS CASE I had only just returned to my own rooms when Mrs. Peddar appeared. “The young lady is up, sir, and wishes to see you, if it would be quite convenient.” Her words, her tone, her manner, told me that the housekeeper had not yet heard of what had happened to the occupant of No. 64. Atkins had explained that he had experienced some difficulty in finding a constable, and, apparently, had said nothing of his errand to any one upon the way. The story of Edwin Lawrence’s ending had not yet been told. I was not disposed to be the first to inform Mrs. Peddar. “How is the young lady?” I asked. “Well, sir, she seems all right, bodily, if I may say so, and she certainly has slept sound, and looks better than ever; but that there’s something the matter with her mind, I feel sure.” “Have you found out her name, or anything about her?” “No, sir, not a word. I looked at her linen when she was in bed, and it’s marked ‘E.M.’” “‘E.M.’?” “Yes, sir, ‘E.M.’ And there’s a purse in her pocket with eighteen shillings; but that’s all--no cards or anything. I was wondering if you wouldn’t like Dr. Hume to see her. He’s a clever gentleman, and might find out what’s wrong with her; because, as I’ve said, that there’s something wrong I’m sure.”