is hand for silence, gazed a few moments longer,
poked some dreadful little object two or three times, sighed and sat
back.

"Eh?"

"There's a party in the yard, sir, wants a doctor."

(This sort of thing had happened before.)

"Tell them to be off," he said sharply. He was not an unkindly man, but
this sort of thing was impossible. "Tell them to go to Dr. Foster."

"I 'ave, sir," said the man.

"Tell them again," said the doctor.

"I 'ave, sir. 'Arf a dozen times."

The doctor sighed--he was paying practically no attention at all, of
course. The leprous mouse had been discouraging; that was all.

"If you'd step down, sir, an instant--"

The doctor returned from soaring through a Toxined universe.

"Nonsense," he said sharply. "Tell them I'm not practicing. What do they
want?"

"Please, sir, it's a young man as 'as poisoned 'is foot, 'e says. 'E
looks very bad, and--"

"Eh? Poison?"

"Yes, sir."

The doctor appeared to reflect a moment (that mouse, you know--); then
he recovered.

"I'll be down directly," he said almost mechanically. "Take 'em all into
the study."

(II)

Dr. Whitty could hardly explain to me, even when he tried, exactly why
he had made an exception in this particular instance. Of course, I
understand perfectly myself why he did; but, for himself, all he could
say was that he supposed the word Poison happened to meet his mood. He
had honestly done with the mouse just now; he had no other very critical
case, and he thought he might as well look at the poisoned young man
for an instant, before finally despatching him to Dr. Foster, six miles
further on.

When he came into the study ten minutes later he found the party ranged
to meet him. A girl was sitting on a box in the corner by the window,
and stood up to receive him; a young man was sitting back in a Windsor
chair, with one boot off, jerking spasmodically; his eyes stared
unmeaningly before him. A tallish, lean man of a particularly
unprepossessing appearance was leaning over him with an air of immense
solicitude. They were all three evidently of the tramp-class.

What they saw--with the exception of Frank, I expect, who was too far
gone to notice anything--was a benignant-looking old man, very shabby,
in an alpaca jacket, with a rusty velvet cap on his head, and very
bright short-sighted eyes behind round spectacles. This figure appeared
in the doorway, stood looking at them a moment, as if bewildered as to
why he or th