omed yet; and I candidly confess to you
that, in bringing that man back to existence, I was, morally speaking,
groping haphazard in the dark. I know (from the testimony of the doctor
who attended him in the afternoon) that the vital machinery, so far
as its action is appreciable by our senses, had, in this case,
unquestionably stopped, and I am equally certain (seeing that I
recovered him) that the vital principle was not extinct. When I add that
he had suffered from a long and complicated illness, and that his whole
nervous system was utterly deranged, I have told you all I really know
of the physical condition of my dead-alive patient at the Two Robins
Inn.

When he "came to," as the phrase goes, he was a startling object to look
at, with his colorless face, his sunken cheeks, his wild black eyes, and
his long black hair. The first question he asked me about himself when
he could speak made me suspect that I had been called in to a man in my
own profession. I mentioned to him my surmise, and he told me that I was
right.

He said he had come last from Paris, where he had been attached to
a hospital; that he had lately returned to England, on his way to
Edinburgh, to continue his studies; that he had been taken ill on
the journey; and that he had stopped to rest and recover himself at
Doncaster. He did not add a word about his name, or who he was, and of
course I did not question him on the subject. All I inquired when he
ceased speaking was what branch of the profession he intended to follow.

"Any branch," he said, bitterly, "which will put bread into the mouth of
a poor man."

At this, Arthur, who had been hitherto watching him in silent curiosity,
burst out impetuously in his usual good-humored way:

"My dear fellow" (everybody was "my dear fellow" with Arthur), "now you
have come to life again, don't begin by being down-hearted about your
prospects. I'll answer for it I can help you to some capital thing in
the medical line, or, if I can't, I know my father can."

The medical student looked at him steadily.

"Thank you," he said, coldly; then added, "May I ask who your father
is?"

"He's well enough known all about this part of the country," replied
Arthur. "He is a great manufacturer, and his name is Holliday."

My hand was on the man's wrist during this brief conversation. The
instant the name of Holliday was pronounced I felt the pulse under my
fingers flutter, stop, go on suddenly with a bound, and b