Fuller."

"I can only support your suggestion," said the Archdeacon.

So the coachman came down from his box and helped them to lift the
young man into the landau; and his body swayed helplessly between
Miss Winwood and the Archdeacon, whose breeches and gaiters were
smeared with dust from his heavy boots. A few moments afterwards he
was carried into the library and laid upon a sofa, and Miss Winwood
administered restoratives. The deep stupor seemed to pass, and he
began to moan.

Miss Winwood and the housekeeper stood by his side. The Archdeacon,
his hands behind his back, paced the noiseless Turkey carpet. "I
hope," said he, "your doctor will not be long in coming."

"It looks like a sunstroke," the housekeeper remarked, as her
mistress scrutinized the clinical thermometer.

"It doesn't," said Miss Winwood bluntly. "In sunstroke the face is
either congested or clammy. I know that much. He has a temperature
of 103."

"Poor fellow!" said the Archdeacon.

"I wonder who he is," said Miss Winwood.

"Perhaps this may tell us," said the Archdeacon.

From the knapsack, carelessly handled by the servant who had brought