"I am sorry to have kept you waiting. It is a
conflict of duties, you perceive--a host's to his
guests and an adviser's to his patient. But now I am
entirely at your disposal, Sir Francis. But dear me,
you are very cold."

"Yes, I am cold."

"And you are trembling all over. Tut, tut, this
will never do! This miserable night has chilled you.
Perhaps some little stimulant----"

"No, thank you. I would really rather not. And
it is not the night which has chilled me. I am
frightened, doctor."

The doctor half-turned in his chair, and he
patted the arch of the young man's knee, as he might
the neck of a restless horse.

"What then?" he asked, looking over his shoulder
at the pale face with the startled eyes.

Twice the young man parted his lips. Then he
stooped with a sudden gesture, and turning up the
right leg of his trousers he pulled down his sock and
thrust forward his shin. The doctor made a clicking
noise with his tongue as he glanced at it.