The Bungalow Mystery by Annie Haynes

necessity.
    Roger saw that it was no sinecure that was being offered to him, the case was an extremely interesting one from a medical point of view, and the post would afford him besides ample time for carrying on the experiments and the study which he had found impossible at Sutton Boldon.
    So, after much deliberation, and due weighing of pros and cons, he had accepted for a time at any rate and though he had only been at Oakthorpe a week, he had found already that his task would be by no means an easy one.
    At school and college Courtenay, though easily roused to passion, had been distinguished for his easy-going disposition, and his ready good nature. It would have been too much to expect that, after the terrible injuries he had received in the accident at Northchester, he should remain the same.
    But beyond the general captiousness and irritability for which Lavington was prepared, it seemed to him that his friend’s whole nature was warped and changed. He had become cynical and hard. In some moods he seemed to positively take a pleasure in making speeches that hurt and stung; and he, who had formerly listened to every tale of sorrow or trouble, and sympathized with the sufferers, often relieving them to an extent which his slender income had then in no way warranted, would now dismiss a tenant who came to him for advice or help, with blunt refusal of either, and in some moods would bring the hot blood to the cheek of the unlucky suppliant with a few contemptuous words.
    The only thing which, as far as Roger could see, remained unchanged was the old friendship for himself. Though even with him Courtney would often be unjust and unreasonable, it was not difficult to divine that the old liking was there, that Lavington’s presence at the Manor was a real pleasure to him.
    To-day the nervous pains in the spine and head were unusually violent. Roger had been employed since early morning in trying to find some means of alleviating them, so far with little success. At last he had determined to administer a sedative. Courtney, however, was not an amenable patient, and it was no easy matter to persuade him to take it.
    â€œThe best thing you could do would be to give me something out of that medicine-case of yours that would send me to sleep for ever,” he growled, as Roger, glass in hand, stood waiting.
    â€œThis will probably make you sleep for a time, and I hope when you wake you will feel much better.” Roger set the draught on the table and stooped to readjust the mechanism of the chair.
    Courtenay caught up the glass and emptied it.
    â€œI see I shall get no peace until I do,” he said recklessly. “And, after all, sleep is the one thing left me. It is something to forget, if only for an hour, the crippled, useless log I have become; to think that I am once more alive! Will you ring for Miller, Lavington? I want to give her some directions about the study.”
    Roger adjusted the chair to the proper angle, so that his patient could sleep, and touched a handbell.
    â€œSend Mrs. Miller here, please,” he said to the man, and then waited till the housekeeper appeared.
    He knew that she had been Courtenay’s nurse in childhood, and that after the accident she had returned to Oakthorpe and begged to be allowed to assist in the nursing, and that Courtenay had since installed her as housekeeper. Courtenay had hinted, too, at a tragic story in her past. He had spoken of a daughter who had left her home, and whose desertion had well-nigh broken her mother’s heart.
    So far, however, Lavington had only seen her face by candlelight. As she came into the room now, he was conscious of a certain sense of familiarity. He watched her with some attention. She was dressed in the traditional black silk, her grey hair was rolled back beneath a lace cap, and she wore an elaborate gold brooch and chain. It seemed to Roger, however, that in spite of her stately attire she herself was ill at ease and