Left alone with Lady Selina, Grimshaw gave the real reason for his visit.

“I am placed in an abominable situation,” he said abruptly. “You will believe, Lady Selina, that I should not bother you on Sunday afternoon without some cause.”

“Yes, yes; pray enlighten me.”

“Do you know anything about our professional etiquette?”

“Absolutely nothing, Mr. Grimshaw.”

He made a gesture which might mean that ladies of manors should know more than they usually did about matters that might concern them intimately. But he spoke temperately, avoiding medical terminology:

“Put briefly, it is this: No doctor interferes with another qualified practitioner in the exercise of his profession.”

“I understand.”

“Unhappily, opinions differ as to a man’s qualifications. Legally speaking, Dr. Snitterfield is a qualified practitioner.”

Lady Selina, unable to wean her mind from Dr. Snitterfield and decanter stoppers, said blandly:

“I barely know Dr. Snitterfield. He is not, of course, a gentleman. His practice is confined, I imagine, to—to those who are unable to employ you or Dr. Pawley.”

Grimshaw brightened. Obviously Lady Selina did not hold Dr. Snitterfield in high esteem. He continued:

“This afternoon I was visiting a patient—one of the Burbles.”

“Not my dear old Nicodemus?”

“Not Nicodemus—a niece of his. She told me that her father was in great pain, suffering horribly. I admit frankly that I ought to have asked her if some other doctor was attending him. My excuse—if it be an excuse—is that I was much rushed, also I have hardly had time to pick up the threads of Dr. Pawley’s practice. I supposed that my patient’s father, living in the same house, had been attended by Dr. Pawley.”

“Quite naturally.”

“So I went up. I found the old fellow in the most shocking condition—a mass of bedsores, and suffering from an abscess in the hip.”

“Perfectly horrible!”

“With the greatest reluctance, I must still further lacerate your feelings. It seems that two months ago the man broke his leg. Dr. Snitterfield refused to set it, partly on account of the man’s age—he is over seventy—and partly because of the hip disease. I can assure you positively that his leg could have been set two months ago. Ever since he has lain there, most shamefully neglected. Probably he will die of the bedsores.”

“I am inexpressibly shocked, Mr. Grimshaw.”

“I knew you would be.”

“But I don’t quite understand what I can do.”

“This poor old fellow requires constant attention. If I take over the case Dr. Snitterfield will be furious. I care nothing about that. I propose to take it over—I have taken it over.”

“With my cordial approval.”

“Thanks. This, however, is not the only case of disgraceful neglect on the part of Dr. Snitterfield. I could cite others, but for the moment I’ll spare you. The point is this: Action should be taken against Snitterfield.”

“How?”

“I can ask the chief medical officer at Melchester to come here and investigate these cases himself.”

For the first time Lady Selina displayed uneasiness. She had, as we know, a nose for approaching trouble. In a vague way she divined that Grimshaw himself had reasons against the summoning of authority. However, she said suavely:

“If you deem that necessary it must be done.”

Grimshaw hesitated. Would Lady Selina stand plain speech? Ought he to be—diplomatic? He could see lines of suffering upon her face. The pink glow that had suffused it at tea-time was gone. The fingers of her hands were trembling. He decided to pick his way as cautiously as possible.

“Dr. Snitterfield is, of course, our local health officer. That adds enormously to his responsibility. He would lose his job if his chief did come here.”

“I will take your word for that.”

“Perhaps, Lady Selina, you are not aware that Snitterfield was appointed by the district council?”

“If you say so it is so.”

“Your bailiff, John Gridley, was chairman of the council at the time of Snitterfield’s appointment and is still.”

Light was dawning upon Lady Selina. She blinked.

“I—I see.”

“I cannot disguise from you—it would be criminal on my part to do so—that Snitterfield has powerful friends, Gridley amongst the number, and several of your farmers. From my knowledge of the chief, his investigation, if he comes to Upworthy, will be thorough. I fear that the results of his investigation would become public property. The Radical Press might take the matter up.”

“The Radical Press!” The light was now so intolerably strong that Lady Selina closed her eyes.

“In short, you, as lady of the manor, would be exposed to much hostile criticism and inevitable humiliation.”

Lady Selina opened her eyes, saying tartly:

“Humiliation is rather a strong word Mr. Grimshaw. Can you tell me why I should be humiliated because a local health officer is proved derelict in his duty?”

Grimshaw hesitated again. Why had destiny selected him of all men as an instrument to inflict cruel pain upon a woman already bludgeoned? Always she would associate him with her humiliation, for humbled she must be, whether the chief was summoned from Melchester or not.

“I wish I could spare you the answer to that.”

She retorted shrewdly.

“You raised the question. You must answer it frankly.”

“Very good. Such an investigation as I have indicated will involve the inspector of nuisances.”

“But he is not appointed by me.”

“He also was appointed by the district council. He is a friend of Gridley.”

Lady Selina remained silent. She had just recalled Cicely’s words, repeating what Arthur Wilverley had said. Obviously Arthur knew these unpleasant facts. Grimshaw went on inexorably.

“It comes to this: without your knowledge, without any suspicion on your part, these three unscrupulous men—Snitterfield, Gridley and the inspector of nuisances—aided and abetted by small farmers, who dreaded an increase of rates, have formed a sort of ring. They have all played into each other’s hands and pockets. They have abused grossly the power entrusted to them. And, lastly, their most outrageous misdoings have been done upon your property and often under your name.”

Lady Selina gasped. Grimshaw concluded quietly:

“Now you will understand why I used the word humiliation.”

“I admit, Mr. Grimshaw, that I should be humiliated if I were convinced that outrages had been done on my property and under my name. But, in justice to an old servant, I must suspend judgment till I hear what Gridley says.”

“He will have plenty to say,” Grimshaw observed drily “Meanwhile, whatever he says, action must be taken. I ask you to condemn no man unheard, Lady Selina, but in this case the chief medical officer will be the judge if he is called in—not you.”

“Then you mean to call him in?”

Her voice quavered slightly.

“That depends.”

“Oh? Then you have an alternative in your mind?” He bowed. “What is it?”

“I have come here to suggest that alternative. There is no man in this county who has such first-hand knowledge of rural conditions, good and bad, as Lord Wilverley. Privately and publicly he has power, more than he himself is aware of. Lord Wilverley, under all the circumstances, could, if you can persuade him, deal with these men adequately. It is likely that if this matter becomes open to official investigation Lord Wilverley might be summoned as an expert. I don’t know. He is an expert, and his agent is an expert. As your prospective son-in-law, he ought to help you, and, if he does, I am content to leave the issue in his hands.”

Lady Selina smiled faintly. In a sense she was grateful to Grimshaw for this really invaluable suggestion. She never doubted that Wilverley would help her. And, by this time, she felt certain that Grimshaw was incapable of speaking ill against any man behind his back without due provocation. Nevertheless, he stood before her as a disturber of the peace. He had assailed cruelly her peace of mind. And, of course, as a reformer, he suffered, like all reformers, from excess of zeal.

She said petulantly, with a fluttering of her delicate hands:

“I will speak to Lord Wilverley as soon as I see him. Why—why has Isaac Burble suffered like this? It—it exasperates me. Had I known I should have dealt with Dr. Snitterfield myself. Tell me, if you can, why these stupid reticences exist between me and my people? I am approachable always; I want to help. Why couldn’t Isaac’s daughter come to me quietly and tell me about her father’s condition?”

“You have been away and in great trouble. Had you been at home, probably she would have come. And Dr. Pawley was ill.”

“There is Mr. Goodrich.”

Grimshaw remained silent. Lady Selina continued, still petulantly:

“You answered the particular question. I was away, and these poor people never write—never! But I repeat—there are always these reticences; one simply can’t get the truth out of them. And why?”

Grimshaw had almost exhausted his patience. He had “spared” Cicely’s mother as best he could. He reflected humorously what might have been said, what would be said, scathingly, by the Radical Press if they got hold of such good copy. And now he was pathetically invited to tear off his bandages and inflict more pain.

“Do you really expect the truth from them? They all feel as I felt just now when I approached this pleasant tea-table. You smiled on me graciously, and this is my first visit to you since my return from France. I knew that I was going to distress you horribly. But I am independent of you. Your people are not. For generations they have suppressed the truth. Their fixed idea is to ingratiate themselves with authority, not—not to imperil the doles which they receive from authority, the doles which stand between them and actual want. One of your labourers has brought up fifteen children on just fifteen shillings a week. How has he done it? Because you give him a cottage and a bit of land, because you send milk and medicine, because you allow his wife to pick up fallen timber in the park. And he is terrified of losing these privileges. When you enter his cottage his wife greets you with smiles and curtsies, the children smile under instructions. A cheerful smile means sixpence. Do you—can you expect these strugglers to tell you disagreeable facts, knowing, as they do, that it doesn’t pay, it—doesn’t—pay, to make trouble? Their pluck, not their reticence, amazes me.”

Lady Selina nodded, too dazed by his vehemence to reply. Grimshaw glanced at his watch, muttered something about Pawley, and was striding across the lawn before the lady of the manor had recovered her powers of speech.