the man myself,
and I'd rather he was left entirely in my hands for the present."

"Be damn!" said Doyle, "but I wouldn't ask better than just for yourself
to take in hand and hunt him out of the place altogether."

"It's you could do it," said Dr. O'Donoghue.

"It is," said Doyle. "Divil the better man at devising of ambuscades
ever I come across, and I've known some in my day that you might call
gladiators."

"I'm not precisely a professional gladiator," said Meldon modestly; "but
I've studied strategy a little in my time, and I rather think I'll get
the better of Mr. Simpkins. I suppose now you would not object to
attending his funeral?"

"I would not," said Doyle, "if so be there was no risk of my being hanged
for any share I might have in bringing the same about."

"There's not the least chance of that," said Meldon. "You won't have to
do anything except refrain from making a public fool of the man with any
kind of tricks about salmon for the next fortnight."

"What is it you're thinking of doing?" asked Doyle.

"The doctor," said Meldon, "will of course have to sign the death
certificate."

"I'll do that," said Dr. O'Donoghue, "as soon as ever you satisfy me that
the man's dead. If there isn't a hole drilled in his skull with a
bullet, I'll say it's heart failure that finished him. After the way he
behaved to me, I can't be expected to make a _post mortem_ of him. I
daresay the Major was telling you what he did."

"I hear he wanted you to put some ridiculous sanitary act in force
against poor Doyle. That, of course, was quite intolerable."

"There was worse besides that," said Dr. O'Donoghue gloomily.

"He had it put out against the doctor," said Doyle, "that old Biddy
Finnegan died for the want of proper medical attendance, and her a woman
of near ninety, that was bound to die any way, and would have died
sooner, most likely, if the doctor hadn't let her alone the way he did."

"That old woman," said the doctor, "wasn't neglected. She had a bottle
by her, when she died, that I sent out to her less than a week before,
and she hadn't the half of it drunk. What's more, I wouldn't have minded
a bit if Simpkins had had any right to be interfering; but he hadn't.
Thady Flanagan--that's married to old Biddy's grand-daughter--was
contented enough with the way she died, and asked me civilly would I have
any objection to his taking home the half-bottle of medicine for the use
of one of his own child