"But you can't possibly bother the police," objected Nancy. "After all, Major Fenton has only asked me to marry him, and there's nothing very criminal in that." "Depends on what you call criminal," said Colin. "I should say he deserved ten years for his confounded cheek." As he spoke the door opened and Martha Jane inserted her head. "Would you like any sweet?" she inquired. "There's a nice plum tart in the kitchen if either of you fancy a bit." Colin glanced at his watch. "It sounds alluring," he said, "but I don't think I can spare the time. I must start out on my round at half-past, and I shall have to run through the cases first and see what I've got to take with me." He rose from his chair, Nancy following his example. Martha Jane looked at them both with disapproval. "You're as bad as the doctor, every bit," she observed. 'Ow do you expect to keep well if you don't feed proper? What with this here snatching and picking it's a wonder to me that you ain't all in your graves." "You might give us an extra good tea to make up for it," suggested Colin. "Oh, I forgot to tell you," said Nancy. "I'm afraid I shall be out when you get back. I've promised to go round and see old Mrs. Merivale, one of Mark's patients." "Oh!" Colin's face fell. "That's a blow," he said sadly. "I can never enjoy my tea properly unless someone pours it out for me." "I daresay Martha Jane will do it if you ask her nicely," said Nancy. "In any case, I'll try and get back in time for the second cup." With an encouraging smile she passed out into the hall, and, having paused to light himself a cigarette, Colin returned to the surgery. Half an hour later, with Mark's black bag in one hand and a stout stick in the other, he set forth into the chill and uninviting atmosphere of the December afternoon. He was not disturbed by Nancy's vague alarm with regard to his personal safety, but his practice took him into a pretty rough neighbourhood, and a good tough ash seemed to him a distinctly suitable companion. As it turned out, however, the precaution was an unnecessary one. During his long ramble through the lowest parts of Shadwell he met with nothing but good-natured civility. Wherever he went, down sordid alleys and up rickety staircases, a friendly welcome invariably awaited him. His experience at the hospital had given him the knack of getting on readily with poor people, and, since he had done the same round on the previous day, he was already on familiar terms with most of his patients. By the time he returned to the surgery it was close on five o'clock. Darkness was rapidly setting in, and the feeling that his out-of-door duty was over for the day seemed to lend an additional attraction to the warmth and comfort of the brightly lit hall. As he closed the front door Martha Jane emerged from the kitchen. "A man came to see you just after you'd gone out, sir," she informed him. "Party of the name of Bates. Said he'd call again."