“A wise precaution,” the doctor said simply. He asked one or two questions. The fires had started in the curtains⁠—once by the window and once by the bed. The third time smoke had been discovered by the maid coming from the cupboard, and it was found that Miss Wragge’s clothes hanging on the hooks were smouldering. The doctor listened attentively, but made no comment.

“And now can you tell me,” he said presently, “what your own feeling about it is⁠—your general impression?”

“It sounds foolish to say so,” replied the soldier, after a moment’s hesitation, “but I feel exactly as I have often felt on active service in my Indian campaigns: just as if the house and all in it were in a state of siege; as though a concealed enemy were encamped about us⁠—in ambush somewhere.” He uttered a soft nervous laugh. “As if the next sign of smoke would precipitate a panic⁠—a dreadful panic.”