“I thought you didn’t like him.”
“I don’t—not much. But I’m sorry for a lot of people I don’t like.” He added after a minute or two: “I’m even sorry for Protheroe. Poor fellow—nobody ever liked him much. Too full of his own rectitude and too self-assertive. It’s an unlovable mixture. He was always the same—even as a young man.”
“I didn’t know you knew him then.”
“Oh, yes! When we lived in Westmorland, I had a practice not far away. That’s a long time ago now. Nearly twenty years.”
I sighed. Twenty years ago Griselda was five years old. Time is an odd thing. …
“Is that all you came to say to me, Clement?”
I looked up with a start. Haydock was watching me with keen eyes.
“There’s something else, isn’t there?” he said.
I nodded.
I had been uncertain whether to speak or not when I came in, but now I decided to do so. I like Haydock as well as any man I know. He is a splendid fellow in every way, I felt that what I had to tell might be useful to him.
I recited my interviews with Miss Hartnell and Miss Wetherby.
He was silent for a long time after I’d spoken.
“It’s quite true, Clement,” he said at last. “I’ve been trying to shield Mrs. Lestrange from any inconvenience that I could. As a matter of fact, she’s an old friend. But that’s not my only reason. That medical certificate of mine isn’t the put-up job you all think it was.”