"I have arranged it all. Got a friend to take charge of my patients;
stated that I am going to pay a visit in the country, and so forth. And
now, how are you?"
I told him, very truthfully, that I did not feel at all well.
"Then you will have to get well, or else we shall never be able to
fathom this business," he said. "The first thing, consequently, I shall
do, is to write a prescription, and get it made up. After that, I mean
to take a survey of the house and grounds."
"Do precisely what you like," I answered. "This is Liberty Hall to the
living as well as to the dead," and I laid my head on the back of the
easy-chair, and went off to sleep.
All that day Munro seemed to feel little need of my society. He examined
every room in the house, and every square inch about the premises. He
took short walks round the adjacent neighbourhood, and made, to his own
satisfaction, a map of River Hall and the country and town thereunto
adjoining. Then he had a great fire lighted in the library, and spent
the afternoon tapping the walls, trying the floors, and trying to obtain
enlightenment from the passage which led from the library direct to the
door opening into the lane.
After dinner, he asked me to lend him the shorthand report I had made of
the evidence given at the inquest.
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