Mrs. Ackroyd’s eloquence was cut short as the drawing room door opened once more. I was pleased at the interruption. I hate interfering in other people’s affairs, and I had not the least intention of tackling Ackroyd on the subject of Flora’s settlements. In another moment I should have been forced to tell Mrs. Ackroyd as much.

“You know Major Blunt, don’t you, doctor?”

“Yes, indeed,” I said.

A lot of people know Hector Blunt⁠—at least by repute. He has shot more wild animals in unlikely places than any man living, I suppose. When you mention him, people say: “Blunt⁠—you don’t mean the big game man, do you?”