It did not, of course, take him any time at all to think of Miss Ora Blake. She enjoyed ill health, and her nurses never stayed. Clarice Dean wouldn’t stay, but she would tide Miss Ora over and stop Miss Mildred ringing him up three times a day and buttonholing him every time she met him in the village street. At least he hoped so. He rang Miss Blake, and listened to what she had got to say with as much patience as he could contrive.

“Nurse Dean? My dear Dr. Croft! Do you know, I always did think she was setting her cap at poor Mr. Random. Such a high colour-but all these girls make up nowadays-”

He laughed.

“Well, I think Miss Dean’s colour was natural.”

“Men always do,” said Miss Ora in her comfortable purring voice. “So easily taken in. You say she wants to come down here. Now I wonder why.”

“She has been out to Canada with an invalid who went on a visit to a daughter and unfortunately died there. It was quite natural that she should write to me for a recommendation.”

“Oh, quite. Especially if there was anyone in the neighbourhood whom she wanted to see. Perhaps it was not Mr. James Random in whom she was interested. There is Mr… Arnold Random, and Mr. Edward-”

Dr. Croft chuckled. When he did not have too much of her he could enjoy Miss Ora Blake.

“Now, now,” he said, “you mustn’t forget we’re on a party line. Suppose the Hall is listening in.”

“Arnold Random would be very much flattered,” said Miss Ora with what he was convinced was a toss of the head. “He’s quite a catch now-coming in for everything after his brother died. And he can’t be more than sixty-he was much younger than Mr. James. He’d be the one to make up to, not poor Edward. Though I don’t know why I should call him poor. People don’t run away and let themselves be thought dead and then come back and not tell anyone where they’ve been, unless they’ve got themselves into some kind of a mess.”