Mary had been instructed to show him straight in, and, when he was at length announced, the Professor rose at once to greet him. Mr. Ludgrove, seen for the first time, was certainly an imposing and dignified figure. His snowy white hair and beard gave him a patriarchal appearance, produced an almost severe impression, which was only modified by the kindly smile which habitually hovered at the corner of his mouth. His eyes were screened by his powerful spectacles, but one guessed them to be direct and piercing in their expression. “I am delighted to meet you, Mr. Ludgrove,” said the Professor warmly. “Yes, I am Dr. Priestley, and this is my secretary, Mr. Merefield. I received your letter, and am much obliged to you for your suggestion, which I shall be very glad to fall in with.” “Thank you, Dr. Priestley, you are very kind,” replied Mr. Ludgrove, in his deep and pleasant voice. The Professor glanced at him in astonishment. Neither the voice nor the intonation were such as he would have expected of a herbalist in Praed Street. “It is a beautiful evening,” continued Mr. Ludgrove. “Shall we walk to my house, or would you prefer to call a taxi? I know that the vicinity of Praed Street has a bad reputation as a result of these deaths, but although, as you probably know, I received a numbered counter some weeks ago, I have so far come to no harm. You need have no apprehensions once we reach my house. The police still display considerable concern for my safety.” Mr. Ludgrove smiled, and even the Professor’s set features relaxed a little. “I am not afraid to walk to Praed Street, especially in your company, Mr. Ludgrove,” he replied. “And coming back?” persisted the herbalist. “I fear I have no telephone, and it may take me some minutes to find you a cab. I should be happy to walk back here with you.” The Professor made an impatient gesture. “Believe me, Mr. Ludgrove, I am no more afraid of Praed Street than you are. If you insist upon walking home with me, I shall be very glad of your company. If not, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” “It will be late, I am afraid, that is, if you have the patience to listen to me for so long,” replied Mr. Ludgrove. “I shall be compelled to inflict upon you a long and possibly tedious tale. However, you shall decide how much of it you wish to listen to.” “I am usually considered a good listener,” said the Professor. “Shall we walk to your house, Mr. Ludgrove?” The herbalist assenting, they left the house and walked down Westbourne Terrace together. Mr. Ludgrove’s shop was scarcely half a mile away, and they covered the distance in a few minutes, conversing about anything but the matter uppermost in their thoughts. The Professor found Mr. Ludgrove a most entertaining companion, and found himself wondering what such a man was doing to be compelled to keep a shop in such an odd neighbourhood.