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urst into the room. "Your father is mad, Ruth!" he exclaimed; "absolutely stark mad! And I refuse to hold any further communication with him." "The present interview was not of his seeking," Miss Bellingham replied coldly. "No, it was not," was the wrathful rejoinder; "it was my mistaken generosity. But there--what is the use of talking? I've done my best for you and I'll do no more. Don't trouble to let me out; I can find my way. Good morning." With a stiff bow and a quick glance at me, the speaker strode out of the room, banging the door after him. "I must apologise for this extraordinary reception," said Miss Bellingham; "but I believe medical men are not easily astonished. I will introduce you to your patient now." She opened the door and, as I followed her into the adjoining room, she said: "Here is another visitor for you, dear. Doctor--" "Berkeley," said I. "I am acting for my friend Doctor Barnard." The invalid, a fine-looking man of about fifty-five, who sat propped up in bed with a pile of pillows, held out an excessively shaky hand, which I grasped cordially, making a mental note of the tremor. "How do you do, sir?" said Mr. Bellingham. "I hope Doctor Barnard is not ill." "Oh, no," I answered; "he has gone for a trip down the Mediterranean on a currant ship. The chance occurred rather suddenly, and I bustled him off before he had time to change his mind. Hence my rather unceremonious appearance, which I hope you will forgive." "Not at all," was the hearty response. "I'm delighted to hear that you sent him off; he wanted a holiday, poor man. And I am delighted to make your acquaintance, too." "It is very good of you," I said; whereupon he bowed as gracefully as a man may who is propped up in bed with a heap of pillows; and having thus exchanged broadsides of civility, so to speak, we--or, at least, I--proceeded to business. "How long have you been laid up?" I asked cautiously, not wishing to make too evident the fact that my principal had given me no information respecting his case. "A week to-day," he replied. "The _fons et origo mali_ was a hansom-cab which upset me opposite the Law Courts--sent me sprawling in the middle of the road. My own fault, of course--at least, the cabby said so, and I suppose he knew. But that was no consolation to me." "Were you much hurt?" "No, not really; but the fall bruised my knee rather badly and gave me a deuce of a shake up. I'm too old for
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