And as she whispered the words slowly, she glanced around the room as though in fear of eavesdroppers.
I was silent. I was lighting a cigarette.
"I thought, perhaps, you might run down to Coombe," she went on, watching me. "I go down to-morrow morning, and you could follow me the day after. You, on your part, might pretend to go on a holiday, and come to me in secret instead."
"But Taylor may be watching my movements. If so, he will be aware of your visit here to-night!"
"I think not. I have no fear of that. He's in Scotland. Say that you will come."
"Well—I will do so, if you wish to consult me professionally."
"I do. But I don't want you to cure any disease. I want you to give one—you understand?" and she grinned.
"Perfectly. You think that in our mutual interests this fellow's mouth must be effectually closed?" I said quite coolly.
"You follow me exactly, doctor. Think matters over carefully between now and Tuesday, and make preparations to go for a holiday—perhaps to the Continent. Instead of doing so come down to me. Come as Mr. Fryer,
