blank, and he slowly shook his head. "I haven't an idea in the world," he declared. "A patient, perhaps?"
"Possibly," said Harley, conscious of some disappointment; "yet from the way he spoke of him I scarcely think that he was a patient. Surely Sir Charles, having resided so long in India, numbered several Orientals among his acquaintances if not among his friends?"
"None ever came to his home," replied Doctor McMurdoch. "He had all the Anglo-Indian's prejudice against men of colour." He rested his massive chin in his hand and stared down reflectively at the carpet.
"Then you have no suggestion to offer in regard to this person?"
"None. Did he tell you nothing further about him?"
"Unfortunately, nothing. In the next place, Doctor McMurdoch, are you aware of any difference of opinion which had arisen latterly between Sir Charles and his daughter?"
"Difference of opinion!" replied Doctor McMurdoch, raising his brows ironically. "There would always be difference of opinion between little Phil and any man who cared for her. But out-and-out quarrel—no!"
Again Harley found himself at a deadlock, and it was with scanty hope of success that he put his
