the country making love to every lady-patient he came across. You will remember, too, how hard-worked I had been with that epidemic of influenza, and you yourself, who had just been on holiday, suggested that I should run out to Palermo.
I know that my face was pale and drawn, and, by Jove, I think yours would have been if you had been dreading the ugly revelation of which I then stood in hourly fear. It was a case of blackmail over a certain little affair. Suffice it to say that one night I had received a knock-down blow—a visit from a woman.
A third person knew sufficient to put me into the dock at the Old Bailey!
Phew! I grow hot all over when I reflect upon it.
Well, I decided upon having a much-needed change, and, as you know, I left Charing Cross by the night-mail for Dover. But instead of crossing to Calais I slept the night at the "Lord Warden," and on the next afternoon alighted at the quiet, little old-fashioned town of Ashburton, which, perhaps you know, is situated at the end of a branch line from Totnes, in Devonshire, and, being in close proximity to the heather-clad slopes of breezy Dartmoor, is very popular as a holiday centre.
