octor," she quietly, "you have another duty to perform than that of
watching over your patient. An innocent man is accused of a terrible
crime. Lord Radclyffe, though very weak, is fully conscious. If he can
save his nephew by a word that word must be spoken to-night."

"Send for Tom Ryder," murmured the sick man, "he'll understand."

The words came in gasps, but otherwise fairly distinctly. Doctor
Newington, in all his professional experience, had never been placed
in such an extraordinary dilemma. He was not quite so obstinate about
the whole thing as he had originally been, and a kind of hopeless
bewilderment showed itself upon his face.

"Will you send for Sir Thomas, doctor?" asked Louisa. "You see that
Lord Radclyffe wishes it."

The doctor shrugged his shoulders. The responsibility was getting all
too heavy for him. Besides being a fashionable physician, he was also
a man, and as such not altogether inhuman. He had seen much acute
suffering, both mental and physical, throughout the length of his
career, but never had he been brought face to face with such an acute
psychological problem, and--frankly--he did not know how to deal with
it.

So he sent the nurse to ask Sir Thomas Ryder once more to step up
stairs, whilst he himself went up to his patient, and with the
mechanical movement born of life-long habit, he placed his white,
podgy fingers on the feebly fluttering pulse.

"God only knows what will be the issue," he said almost inaudibly. "I
don't."

The sick man, on the other hand, seemed to be husbanding his
strength. He had most obediently taken the brandy which had been given
him, and now he lay back quietly among the pillows, with eyes closed
and lips slightly parted. The hands wandered somewhat restlessly along
the smooth surface of the quilt, otherwise Lord Radclyffe lay
perfectly still. It even seemed--to Louisa's super-sensitive gaze--as
if an expression of content had settled over the pale face. Once the
sick man opened his eyes and looked up at the portrait: the lips
murmured the one word:

"Luke!" and slowly, very slowly, two tears formed in the sunken eyes
and trickled down the wan cheeks.

"You had better," said the doctor curtly, "leave the patient to me and
to Sir Thomas."

"Certainly," she replied. "I'll wait in the next room."

"Sir Thomas will call you, no doubt, if your presence is desirable."

She was ready enough to obey now: her uncle's footstep was heard on
the landing ou