"Yes, a bruise on the leg, and, if you don't believe me, look here,"
and, dragging up his trouser, he showed me below the knee a large
inflamed patch of a dusky hue, in the centre of which one of the veins
could be felt to be hard and swollen.

"Has Sir John Bell seen that?" I asked.

"Not he. I wanted him to look at it, but he was in a hurry, and said I
was just like an old woman with a sore on show, so I gave it up."

"Well, if I were you, I'd go home and insist upon his coming to look at
it."

"What do you mean, doctor?" he asked growing alarmed at my manner.

"Oh, it is a nasty place, that is all; and I think that when Sir John
has seen it, he will tell you to keep quiet for a few days."

Major Selby muttered something uncomplimentary about Sir John, and then
asked me if I would come home with him.

"I can't do that as a matter of medical etiquette, but I'll see you into
a cab. No, I don't think I should drink that whisky if I were you, you
want to keep yourself cool and quiet."

So Major Selby departed in his cab and I went home, and, having nothing
better to do, turned up my notes on various cases of venous thrombosis,
or blood-clot in the veins, which I had treated at one time or another.

While I was still reading them there came a violent ring at the bell,