"I have a client now who wants rather a heavy sum upon the security of some leasehold houses. Mrs Berens has money lying in the Three per Cents., and I thought that you, as her friend, might advise her. She would get six per cent, instead of three, and a word from you--" "Will never induce a lady patient of mine to run any risks," said the doctor shortly. "Risks?" "Breakfast's ready," said the doctor abruptly, and he led the way into the other room. Having sufficient wisdom not to recommence the attack, Cousin Thompson contented himself with breakfasting heartily, but he was not pleasant over his feeding; and, what was more, he had a way of bringing into every room he entered an odour of mouldy parchment. After breakfast Cousin Thompson had an interview with Mrs Berens; and after that, without consulting his cousin, he walked across to the Hall to hold a meeting, not unconnected with money matters, with Tom Candlish. Had he consulted his cousin, he would have known that in all probability Tom Candlish had gone to the meet, especially as he rarely missed a run. Consequently, Cousin Thompson returned to the doctor's, to find him chafing over his disappointment. Not that he was a hunting man; but the whim had seized him to go, and the appearance of Leo Salis had helped to make the ride more attractive than it might have appeared at another time. "Ah, Horace, my dear fellow," he said, "I shall have to trespass on your hospitality for dinner, and then ask you to give me a bed." "All right," said the doctor gruffly. "Give you a dose too, if you like." "Thanks, no, unless you mean wine." "Oh, yes, I'll give you a glass of port," said the doctor. "I hope you haven't persuaded that poor woman to invest in anything risky." "Now, my dear Horace, what do you take me for?" cried Cousin Thompson. "A lawyer." "But there are good lawyers and bad lawyers." "Well, from a legal point of view, you're a bad lawyer. I never gave you but one case to conduct for me, and that you lost." "The barrister lost it, my dear Horace. Don't be afraid. I am not a legal pickpocket. I might retaliate, and say you're a bad doctor." "Well, so I am--horribly bad. The amount of ignorance that exists in my brain, sir, is truly frightful." "But you go on curing people." "Trying to cure people, sir, you mean. Wading about in deep water; groping in the darkness. Thank Heaven, sir, that you were not made a doctor. Eh, what is it--some one ill?" he cried, as Mrs Milt entered the room with a note. "Poor somebody!" said Cousin Thompson to himself. "Note from the Rectory, sir." "Oh!" ejaculated the doctor; "shan't be able to go, as you are here. Wants me to play a game at chess. Salis, you know." As he spoke he leisurely unfastened the envelope, and began to read.