He softly raised Capel, and placed him in a convenient position before
turning to Lydia.

"Really, I think you would prefer to go now?"

The girl's lips seemed to tighten and she shook her head.

"As you please;" said the doctor testily. "I have no time to waste. A
little back, Mr Girtle; I want all the light I can have. Yes, that's
plain enough," he muttered, as with one hand resting on the injured
man's shoulder where the bullet made quite a little lump, he stretched
out the other, and from where it nestled in the case, fitted amongst so
much purple velvet, he took out a small knife.

There was a pleasant look of satisfaction in the doctor's face, as he
took out the knife, but the next moment he turned with an angry flash
upon Lydia.

It was the natural instinctive act of one who loves seeking to protect
the object loved. For as Dr Heston took the knife in his hand, Lydia's
eyes dilated, and she leaned forward, caught the doctor's arm, and gazed
at the keen little blade with dilated eyes.

"My dear young lady, are you mad?" cried the doctor, testily.

She raised her eyes to his in a look so full of appeal, that he could
read it as easily as if she had given it with the interpretation of
words.

He was not accustomed to argue in a case like this, but the girl's
loving attempt to protect the insensible man, touched him to the heart;
and dropping his sharp, imperious manner, he said gently:

"But, don't you see? It is to do him good."

Lydia's hand trembled, but she still grasped the doctor's arm.

"Come, come," he said, smiling. "You must not be alarmed. Do you want
the bullet to stay in and irritate the whole length of the wound?"

She gave her head a sharp shake.

"Well, then, be sensible, my dear girl. There, get me a bit of lint,"
he continued, "and you shall see how easily and well I will do this.
That's better. Why, taking a tooth out is ten times worse. This is a
mere trifle. There, that's a brave little woman. He will not even feel
it."

Lydia's hand had dropped from the doctor's arm, and she drew a long
breath, watching him as if her eyes were drawn to his knife, while he
bent over Capel.

In a few minutes more the patient was lifted upon the bed, and Lydia
stood there with her hands clasped in dread, for it seemed ominous to
her that Capel should be compelled to lie there.

"Can he not be taken up to his room?"

"No, my brave little nurse, no. It would have been extremely