a broken
voice.

CHAPTER III

Asshlin scarcely spoke again during the early portion of that day. The
immense effort of his explanation to Milbanke left him correspondingly
weak; though through all his exhaustion, a look of peace and
satisfaction was visible in his eyes.

During the whole morning Milbanke remained at his bedside, only leaving
the room to partake--at Clodagh's urgent request--of a hurried meal in
the deserted dining-room. At twelve o'clock the nurse resumed her
duties, and soon afterwards the dispensary doctor from Carrigmore drove
over to see his patient. Before he came into the sick-room Milbanke
left it; but when--his examination over--he departed with a whispered
injunction to the nurse, he found the stranger waiting for him in the
corridor.

Milbanke stepped forward as he appeared, and silently motioned him down
the passage to his own room, inviting him to enter with a punctilious
gesture.

"Doctor Gallagher, I believe?" he said. "Allow me to introduce myself.
My name is Milbanke. I am a very old friend of your patient."

With a slow but friendly gesture, the young man held out his hand.

"Oh, I know all about you!" he said. "I'm glad to make your
acquaintance."

His voice, with its marked Irish accent, was soft and pleasant, and his
glance was good-natured; but his tanned skin and rough shooting-suit
suggested the sportsman rather than the medical practitioner.

Milbanke eyed him quickly.

"Then you won't misunderstand anything I may say?"

Gallagher smiled.

"Not a bit of it!" he answered nonchalantly. "And what's more, I think
I know what it's going to be."

A shade of confusion passed over the Englishman's face. His
understanding was still unattuned to the half-shrewd, half-inquisitive
tendencies of the Irish mind. With a shadowy suspicion that he was
being unobtrusively ridiculed, he became a degree colder.

"I am grieved beyond measure at Mr. Asshlin's condition, Doctor
Gallagher," he said, "and it has struck me--it has been suggested to my
mind that possibly----" He stopped uncertainly. "That possibly----"

"That perhaps there ought to be another opinion?" Gallagher looked at
him complacently. "Well, maybe you're right. 'Tisn't because _I_
condemn him that he shouldn't appeal to a higher court."

Milbanke started.

"Then you think poorly of his chances?"

Gallagher shook his head expressively.

"You despair of him?"

A pang of unexpected grief touched Milban