CHAPTER FIFTEENDr. Garstang walked down the garden path which led from Sally’s front door to the gate, and paused a moment when he reached the pavement. Something about the set of his head and shoulders denoted both weariness and defeat; two men were watching him (though Garstang noticed neither of them) and both thought, in their own particular idiom, the equivalent of: “He looks as though he’s had it.”
It was just as the psychiatrist was about to cross the road (with singularly little attention to the traffic which roared unceasingly along the Maida Vale) that he felt a hand on his arm, and a man’s voice spoke close beside him.
“It’s Dr. Garstang, isn’t it? You probably don’t remember me, but I’ve just been to call on you.”
Garstang shook the other’s hand off impatiently and took a st
