Consultation hours were only in the mornings and even then, there were mornings when Tristan only saw a handful of patients. He was grateful for Douglas sponsoring him to see the poor in the afternoon, or he would already have been forced to move to a smaller home.

This was another quiet morning. When the lady who had come for the wart on her nose (but really to tell him all about her frustration with her daughter-in-law) had left, Tristan popped his head around the door of the waiting room and was glad to see at least one patient. "Ah, Mr. Crane. Do come in."

He showed the constable into the office: a large space, with a desk in the corner, a chamber screen, a high table and several cupboards. In the back there were several high windows, the bottom parts of which were paneled over to offer privacy, while the top part still provided daylight.

"Have a seat," he gestured. He seated himself on the other side of the desk, his back towards the windows. "What can I do for you, sir?"