“Sir Philip Cranstoun, having heard that Dr. Netherbridge invariably speaks the truth to his patients, would be glad if he will at once proceed to the Chase in the carriage sent herewith, and give his opinion upon a patient there. Sir Philip wishes to inform Dr. Netherbridge that the abilities of Sir Curtis Clarkson, Sir Percival Hoare, and Dr. Tracey Wentworth have all been exerted in vain over this special case, the drawback in every instance being their inability to speak the truth. This, Sir Philip hopes to hear from Dr. Netherbridge.” The doctor put down the letter, surprised and interested. Sir Curtis Clarkson and Sir Percival Hoare were names to conjure with, London physicians of great and established reputation, favored by royalty, and believed in unquestioningly by the wealthier middle classes. Dr. Tracey Wentworth was a highly popular practitioner from Guildford, in his profession a triton against a minnow when compared with the struggling young doctor who was now called to supersede him. Ernest Netherbridge pondered for a few moments. After all, he reflected, although he might well fail over a case which had puzzled better heads than his, at least he could exercise his favorite and unpopular virtue of candor without fear of the consequences. Should he succeed in pleasing so great a local magnate as Sir Philip Cranstoun, a justice of the peace, and one of the largest landowners in the south of England, it would greatly help to establish his position and practice in the town of his adoption. The thing was at least worth trying for. Taking his overcoat and slipping a scarf round his neck, for he was by no means robust, Dr. Netherbridge stepped out of his house, and entering the roomy and comfortable carriage in waiting for him, was soon whirling along a quiet country road toward the great gates leading to the Chase. The wind whistled through the scantily clad branches of the swaying trees, scattering their yellow and russet leaves, and whirling them in dancing eddies a little way above the moist earth below. Dr. Netherbridge had never been within the precincts of the great park; indeed, since his marriage three years previously, Sir Philip Cranstoun had discouraged visitors, and no one in Grayling appeared to have even seen Lady Cranstoun, concerning whose remarkable beauty, however, reports were freely circulated. Considerable interest and curiosity dominated the young doctor’s mind as he was driven rapidly along the wide avenue of over-arching giant elmtrees, which formed a characteristic feature of the Cranstoun Chase enclosure.