“Oh, that ugly little man!” she smiled. “Yes, he’s supposed to be very clever. He’s a London doctor, Dr. Monk,” and then, rather to his consternation, Hardacre learnt the doctor had a country home on Hickling Broad, not a dozen miles from his own place.
“But we don’t see much of him, socially,” went on the old lady, “for he keeps very much to himself. I expect he’s only come out to-day to see the roses here. His great hobby is growing roses and he takes lots of prizes at the shows.”
Hardacre’s complacent frame of mind that the doctor would not give him another thought had quite passed by the time he was driving home in his car. He was sure Dr. Monk had been inquiring about him, for just before he had left the garden party he had seen him in close conversation with a man who often came to
