ment against him. The incidents arrived haphazard as magic
lanthorn views, but very vivid. His denial of me before Mr. Dix, and his
treachery at Vauxhall, when he had sent me to be murdered. Next I felt
myself clutching the skin over his ribs in Arlington Street, when I had
flung him across the room in his yellow night-gown. That brought me to
the most painful scene of my life, when I had parted with Dorothy at the
top of the stairs. Afterward followed scraps of the years at Gordon's
Pride, and on top of them the talk with McAndrews. Here was the secret
I sought. The crash had come. And they were no longer in Mayfair, but
must have taken a house in some poorer part of London. This thought cast
me down tremendously.

And Dorothy! Had time changed her? 'Twas with that query on my lips I
fell asleep, to dream of the sun shining down on Carvel Hall and Wilmot
House; of Aunt Hester and Aunt Lucy, and a lass and a lad romping through
pleasant fields and gardens.

When I awoke it was broad day once more. A gentleman sat on the edge of
my bed. He had a queer, short face, ruddy as the harvest moon, and he
smiled good-humouredly when I opened my eyes.

"I bid you good morning, Mr. Carvel, for the first time since I have made
your acquaintance," said he. "And how do you feel, sir?"

"I have never felt better in my life," I replied, which was the whole
truth.

"Well, vastly well," says he, laughing, "prodigious well for a young man
who has as many holes in him as have you. Do you hear him, Mrs.
Manners?"

At that last word, I popped up to look about the room, and the doctor
caught hold of me with ludicrous haste. A pain shot through my body.

"Avast, avast, my hearty," cries he. "'Tis a miracle you can speak,
let alone carry your bed and walk for a while yet." And he turned to
Dorothy's mother, whom I beheld smiling at me. "You will give him the
physic, ma'am, at the hours I have chosen. Egad, I begin to think we
shall come through.

"But pray remember, ma'am, if he talks, you are to put a wad in his
mouth."

"He shall have no opportunity to talk, Dr. Barry," said Mrs. Manners.

"Save for a favour I have to ask you, doctor," I cried.

"'Od's bodkins! Already, sir? And what may that be?"

"That you will allow me to see Miss Manners."

He shook with laughter, and then winked at me very roguishly.

"Oh!" says he, "and faith, I should be worse than cruel. First she
comes imploring me to see you, and so prettily that a