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"Well, what do you think of Bohemia?" asked Griffin, as they climbed the narrow iron stair again, the time having come for Judith to say good-bye. Not a word was spoken till the door opened again, and Griffin with Doris Leighton and Miss Green came quickly in. "If the man had been guilty, he certainly would not offer the evidence of his guilt for sale. Where did he obtain this devil-stick?".

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"I hear the name of Max Etwald coupled with the crime of murder. Is this the way you treat your guests, major?" He was tall, he was thin, with a dark, lean face, and fiery watchful dark eyes. For three years he had been wasting his talents in the neighboring town of Deanminster; when, if intellect were in question, he should have been shouldering his way above the crowd of mediocrities in London. The man was dispassionate, brilliant and persevering; he had in him the makings not only of a great physician, but of a great man; and he was wasting his gifts in a dull provincial town. He was unpopular in Deanminster, owing to the absence of what is termed "a good bedside manner," and the invalids of the cathedral city and Hurstleigh, for he had patients in both places, resented his brusque ways and avoidance of their scandal-mongering tea parties. Also he was a mystery; than which there can be no greater sin in provincial eyes. No one knew who Etwald was, or whence he came, or why he wasted his talents in the desert of Deanminster; and such secret past which he declined to yield up to the most persistent questioner, accentuated the distrust caused by his sombre looks and curt speeches. Provincial society is intolerant of originality. "Did he ask to buy the devil-stick?" demanded Lady Meg, in surprise. Patricia watched her with studious eyes as she pinned on her hat and hurried into her wraps, holding forth the while in an exultation most unusual to her..