"The nurses," rejoined the doctor with a pompousness which somehow irritated Luke, "will have my authorization to forbid any one having access to Lord Radclyffe for the present. I will write out the certificate now, and this you can present to any one who may show a desire to exercise official authority in the matter of interviewing my patient." "I daresay that I can do all that is necessary at the inquest and so on--Lord Radclyffe need not be worried." "He mustn't be worried. To begin with he would not know any one, and he is wholly unable to answer questions." "That settles the matter of course. So, if you will write the necessary certificate, I'll see the police authorities at once on the subject. Would Lord Radclyffe know me, do you think?" added the young man after a slight pause of hesitancy. "Well," replied the doctor evasively, "I don't think I would worry him to-day. We'll see how he gets on." "He'll probably ask for me." "That is another matter, and if he does, you must of course see him. But unless there is a marked improvement during the day, he won't ask for any one." Luke was silent a moment or two while the doctor sat down at the writing table and sought for pen and ink. "Very well," he said after awhile, "we'll leave it at that. Lord Radclyffe--I can promise you this--shall on no account be disturbed without permission from you. How soon will the nurse arrive?" "Within the hour. The night nurse will come after tea." Doctor Newington wrote out and signed the usual medical certificate to the effect that Lord Radclyffe's state of health demanded perfect quietude and rest and that he was unable to see any one or to answer any questions. He read his own writing through very carefully, then folded the paper in half and handed it to Luke. "This," he said, "will make everything all right. And I'll call again in a couple of hours' time. You won't forget the cook?" "No, I won't forget the cook." When the doctor had taken his leave, Luke stood for a moment quietly in the library: he folded up the medical certificate which he had received at the hands of Doctor Newington, and carefully put it away in his pocket-book. "You won't forget the cook?" I don't think that ever in his life before had Luke realized the trivialities of life as he did at this moment. Remember that he was quite man of the world enough, quite sufficiently sensible and shrewd and English, to have noticed that the degree of familiarity in the doctor's manner had passed the borderland of what was due to himself; the tone of contemptuous indifference savoured of impertinence. And there was something more than that.