As they passed Piershill Barracks, Dr Simpson began extolling the virtues of sea air for all manner of complaints, indicating that their previous conversation was at an end. The cold wind which had initially seemed refreshing now felt distinctly icy, but there seemed little likelihood of the carriage windows being closed. Raven sat back as the brougham rumbled on, concerned that the end of his nose might succumb to frostbite by the time they reached their destination. The chill was proving no friend to his sore tooth either.

They drew up at a house situated on a wide avenue with an uninterrupted view of the sea. The sound of waves could be heard through the open windows of the carriage and Raven could taste salt on his tongue. Simpson sat for a moment before disembarking. Raven assumed he was enjoying the vista before them, but the professor sighed and said quietly to himself: ‘How I yearn for an outing without the usual invalid at the end of it. I really must get a week or two free from the bell and sick folk.’

Raven wondered if the professor’s workload was beginning to take a toll on the man, but any self-pity, if such it was, he quickly brushed aside. He turned to Raven and smiled.

‘Come away now,’ he said, stepping down from the carriage.

The front door opened as they ascended the steps and a worried-looking woman directed them to the room where their patient lay sleeping.

‘She has been awake all night, poor lamb,’ said the child’s mother. ‘She has only just fallen asleep.’

‘Then we must endeavour not to wake her,’ Simpson replied.

They entered a room, shutters closed against the brightness of the day, an oil lamp providing a dim glow in one corner. The child was lying propped up on several pillows, turned slightly towards them, her left ear uppermost. Her face was flushed, the ear a brilliant red, like glowing coals, and seemed to be giving out almost as much heat.

Dr Simpson removed his coat and quietly knelt down beside the bed. He placed his hand lightly on the child’s head and then felt for the pulse at the wrist. Then he stood again, opened his bag and removed a glass jar containing several leeches.

Raven observed the mother’s revulsion upon seeing the damp, black creatures. He masked his own surprise better, but hers was exacerbated by fear for her child. Raven had seen that look before when unpleasant treatments were prescribed: squeamishness at the prospect of what must be done, mixed with a greater dread that the diagnosis must be terrible to have necessitated such a course.

Simpson was about to unclip the lid when he paused and squinted at the ear.