Under One Flag

"I trust," exclaimed Mr Palliser, "that you'll afford me an opportunity to prove that what this person says is absolutely false."

The young lady stood up.

"Please stop the 'bus. I'm going to get out."

"You call a policeman," persisted the old gentleman. "You'll soon find where your purse is."

"But, madam!" cried Mr Palliser. The 'bus stopped. The young lady began to move towards the door. Bruce Palliser following, appealing to her as he did so. "Madam! – if you will give me your attention for a single instant!"

The young lady alighted. Mr Palliser alighted also. The 'bus went on.

"I see him take it," announced the old gentleman in the corner. "Put it in his pocket, I believe he did."

Bruce Palliser, standing in the roadway, tried to induce the young lady to give him a chance to establish his innocence.

"If you will permit me to explain who I am, I will make it quite clear to you-"

She cut him short.

"Have the kindness not to address me."

She climbed into a passing hansom. He had to spring to one side to avoid being cut down by a furniture van. By the time the van had gone the cab had gone also.

Later in the day he rushed into the station with just time enough to enable him to catch the train which was to take him home. He had already entered a compartment before he realised that a seat near the door was occupied by the young lady of the omnibus. The recognition was obviously mutual. Something in her attitude made him conscious of a ridiculous sense of discomfort. He felt that if he did not leave the carriage she would-although the train was about to start. Scrambling back on to the platform he was hustled into another compartment by an expostulating guard. When the train stopped at Market Hinton, and he got out, he observed that the young lady of the omnibus was emerging from the compartment from which he had retreated with so small a show of dignity. Apparently she also had reached her journey's end. He thought he knew most of the people who lived thereabouts, at least by sight. He had certainly never seen her before. Who could she be?

Stupidly enough he hung about the station, allowing himself to be buttonholed by an old countryman who was full of his sufferings from rheumatism-one of that large tribe with which every doctor is familiar, the members of which never lose a chance of obtaining medical advice for nothing. He was not in the best of tempers by the time that he reached home. Nor was his temper improved by the greeting which he received from Jack Griffiths, who had acted as his locum during his enforced absence in London.

"You're not looking any better for your change," declared Jack, who had an unfortunate-and exasperating-knack of seeing the pessimistic side of things. "You're looking all mops and brooms."

"I'm not feeling all mops and brooms-whatever state of feeling that may be. On the contrary, I'm feeling as fit as I ever felt in the whole of my life."

"Then you're not looking it; which is a pity. Because it's my opinion that you'll want all the stock of health you can lay your hands on if you're to continue to hold your own in Market Hinton."

"What might you happen to mean? – you old croaker!"

"It's easy to call me a croaker, sir, but facts are facts; and I tell you that that new doctor's making things hum-cutting the grass from under your very feet."

"What new doctor?"

"The new doctor. I wasn't aware that there was more than one. If there is then you're in greater luck even than I thought you were."

"Are you alluding to that female creature?"

"I am. I am alluding to Dr Constance Hughes, M.D. (London). Mrs Vickers is of opinion that she's a first-rate doctor."

"Mrs Vickers! – Why, she's one of my oldest patients."

"Precisely; which is perhaps one reason why she feels disposed to try a change. Anyhow she called Dr Constance Hughes in one day, when that medical lady happened to be passing; and I'm inclined to think that, if she could only see her way, she'd like to call her in again."

"Pretty unprofessional conduct! What does the woman mean by it?"

"Which woman? Dr Constance Hughes? She's nothing to do with it. She had to go in when they stopped her on the high road; but, from what I understand, when she learnt that Mrs Vickers was your patient she declined to call again. Than her conduct nothing could have been more professional. But it isn't only Mrs Vickers. I hear golden opinions of her on every side. And she drives some of the finest horses I ever saw."

"So I've been told. Thank goodness, so far I've seen neither the woman nor her horses; but if half they say is true, she knows more of horse flesh than of medicine."

"Then, in that case, she must be a dabster. Heaps of money, I'm informed; taken up the profession simply for the sake of something to do, and because she loves it. Bruce, Dr Constance Hughes is going to be a dangerous rival!"

Such, ere long, was to be Bruce Palliser's own opinion.

When, the following afternoon, he returned from his rounds, he learned that an urgent summons had come for him, earlier in the day, from Mrs Daubeny, one of his most influential patients. He hurried round to her. On his arrival at the house the maid who opened the door informed him that the other doctor was upstairs. As he had not come, and Mrs Daubeny was in such pain, they had sent for other assistance. While she was speaking, the maid conducted him upstairs. Opening a door, she ushered him in, announcing his appearance.

"Dr Palliser."

He found himself in a bedroom, with someone lying in the bed, and two women standing on either side of it. One of the women he recognised as Foster, Mrs Daubeny's housekeeper; and the other-as the lady of the omnibus. He stared at her in blank amazement. Although she had her hat on, her sleeves were turned up, and she was holding in her hand what he perceived to be a clinical thermometer. Foster went-awkwardly enough-through a form of introduction.

"Oh, Dr Palliser, I'm so glad you've come! This is Miss Hughes-I mean Dr Hughes. Mrs Daubeny has been so bad that if she hadn't come I don't know what we should have done."

Mr Palliser bowed; so stiffly that the inclination of his head only just amounted to a movement. The lady was as stiff. Although she looked him full in the face there was that in the quality of her glance which almost hinted that she did not notice he was there. She explained the position, in a tone of voice which could hardly have been more frigid.

"Mrs Daubeny has had an attack of acute laryngitis, rather a severe one. Fortunately, however, the worst is over; unless, that is, it should recur."

"I am obliged to you. I have had the honour to treat Mrs Daubeny on former occasions. I will see that all is done that is necessary."

The lady returned her thermometer to its case. She turned down her sleeves. She donned a sable jacket which Mr Palliser could not but feel was not unbecoming. With the curtest possible nod to the newcomer she quitted the room.

At his solitary meal that night, the more Bruce Palliser turned matters over in his mind the less he liked them.

"This is a nice kettle of fish! To think of her being Dr Constance Hughes! For all I know she may actually be of opinion that it was I who stole her purse-as that lying old scoundrel asserted-I should like to wring his neck! She wouldn't condescend to even give me a hearing; the vixen! She has a first-rate tale to tell against me, anyhow. Why, if she chooses to tell everyone that someone stole her purse, and that there was a man in the omnibus who declared he saw me take it, I sha'n't even be able to bring an action for slander; the thing is true enough. I ought to have dragged that old ruffian out by the hair of his head, and made him own then and there that he lied. I've half a mind to write to her and insist on her giving me an opportunity to explain. But she wouldn't do it; she's that kind of woman. I know it! I could see by the way she treated me this afternoon that she means to get her knife into me-and well in, too. A male rival is bad enough-I've had one or two passages-of-arms with old Harford-but a female-and such a female! I may as well announce my practice for sale while there's any of it left to sell. That woman won't leave a stone unturned to ruin me!"

During the next few days he was destined to hear more of Dr Constance Hughes than he cared for. She seemed to have impressed other people a good deal more favourably than she had him. Market Hinton is in the centre of a hunting country. The fact that she had quite a string of first-rate horses, and that she could handle the "ribbons" as well as any coachman, and had an excellent seat in a saddle, appealed to the local imagination in an especial degree. To be a "good sportsman" meant much at Market Hinton; of anyone who reached that high standard they could think no evil. Bruce Palliser found that, because Dr Constance Hughes had hunters who, with her on them, could hold their own in any country, and in any company, people were taking it for granted that her medical qualifications must necessarily be unimpeachable.

Old Rawlins, of "The King's Head," put the case in a nutshell.

"She drives a mare that would win a prize at any show in England; and it does you good to see the way she drives her. That mare wants some driving! I say that a woman who can handle a horse like she can handle that mare ought to be able to handle anything. She shall have the handling of Mrs Rawlins the next time she's ill; I'll have her sent for."

Bruce Palliser was to make the close acquaintance of the mare in question before very long, and in a fashion which did not tend to give him such a high opinion of the creature as Mr Rawlins possessed.

Just as he was preparing for dinner a call came to a patient who lived the other side of the town. His stable only contained one horse, and that had already done a good day's work. Taking out his bicycle he proceeded to the patient's house on that. He was not detained long. Glancing at his watch as he was about to return he perceived that if he made haste he would not be so very late for dinner after all, and would have a chance of getting something to eat before everything was spoiled. So he bowled along at a pace which was considerably above the legal limit. It was bright moonlight. Until he reached Woodcroft, the residence of Dr Constance Hughes, he had the road practically all to himself.

Woodcroft was a corner house. As he neared it he became suddenly conscience that a vehicle was coming along the road which bounded it on one side. As he came to the corner the vehicle swept round it. He had just time to see that it was a high dog-cart, and that Dr Constance Hughes was driving. For some reason the discovery caused him to lose his head. Forgetting that he was riding a free wheel, instead of jamming on the brakes he tried to back pedal. Before he had realised his mistake he was under the horse's hoofs, and the dog-cart had passed right over him.

Mr Palliser was conscious that the startled animal first reared, then bolted-or rather, tried to. Fortunately her master sat behind her in the shape of her mistress. Not only was she brought to a standstill, but, in less than half a minute, Dr Constance Hughes had descended from the dog-cart, and was kneeling at Mr Palliser's side.

Her first remark was scarcely sympathetic.

"You ought to have rung your bell," she said.

"I hadn't a bell to ring," he retorted.