CHAPTER XVII.
THE PLACE OF TORMENT The surgery-bell pealed imperiously, and Tudor looked up from his book.
It was his custom to read far into the night, for he was a poor sleeper and preferred a cosy fireside to his bed.

But that night he was even later than usual.

Glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece, he saw that it was a quarter to two.

With a shrug of the shoulders expressive rather of weariness than indifference, he rose to answer the bell.
It pealed again before he reached the door, and the doctor frowned.

He was never very tolerant of impatience.