The doctor bowed. “May I ask,” I said, “if you have been attending Mrs. Gould for some time?” “Certainly,” he said. “For the last five years.” “I should like very much to speak with you alone for a few minutes. Have you the time, and would you be so very kind as to do this for me?” The doctor looked inquiringly at Gould. Gould was furious. He knew, of course, that I was about to ask for his character. But he restrained himself. “Miss Tower,” he said, with a touch of bitterness, “has already made it quite clear to me that she must have her own way. I believe there is no one in the drawing-room.” The doctor held open the door for me. “I will give you as many minutes as you want, with pleasure,” he said. I gave him my story as briefly as I could, and told him all that had passed between Mr. Gould and myself. “I am going to be quite frank,” I went on. “I do not trust the man in the least. I do not believe he has one atom of love or respect for his mother.” “He has not,” said the doctor. “Why then does he want this impersonation?” “What he has told you is true. Mrs. Gould is very ill. There are various complications, but it is the heart which we have to fear principally. It is impossible to cure her, but I confidently believe that by coming here you will prolong her life and make her last days much happier. As to Mr. Gould’s motives, I have perhaps no right to speak. He has not confided in me. I will only give you the facts. Mrs. Gould is one of two sisters, of equal fortune, and bitterly jealous of one another. The elder sister died in her seventy-fourth year. She did not wish Mrs. Gould to have any advantage over her, and left her money to accumulate until Mrs. Gould’s seventy-third birthday, when Mrs. Gould comes into it. She was a cranky old woman, and did not like the idea of her sister having any more money than she had. Mrs. Gould is a wealthy woman now, and on her seventy-third birthday, which will be in a few days’ time, will be twice as wealthy. If she does not live till her seventy-third birthday, the whole of her sister’s money goes to the London Hospital. Do you see?” “Yes,” I said, “I see. She has doubtless left her money to her son, and in the event of her surviving until her seventy-third birthday he will profit.” “Precisely. Her entire estate is left equally between Mr. Gould and his half-sister, and in the event of the death of either the whole goes to the survivor. That is the situation in a nutshell.” “Then what have I to fear?” “Nothing at all until after that seventy-third birthday.” “I see,” I said meditatively. I could imagine that after that date Mr. Gould’s filial affection might undergo some remarkable changes. The doctor gave me some useful information about the half-sister and explained to me exactly what I was to do when I was admitted to his patient’s room. He also gave me his address. “You may find that useful in a week’s time,” he said.