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Volume Three – Chapter Six.
The Doctor is Eccentric

“Want me to attend Miss Leo Salis? Not I. Send to King’s Hampton for old – ”

“But, please, sir.”

“Please, sir? Yes, you do please this sir. Why, you pretty little, apple-faced, sloe-eyed, cherry-cheeked piece of human fruit! Here, let’s have a look at your little face!”

“Oh, Dr North! For shame! You shouldn’t.”

There was the sound of a smart kiss, and then Horace North stood gazing wildly at Dally as she made believe to be very much hurt in her dignity.

“You shouldn’t, sir, and Miss Leo all the time a-dying.”

“Miss Leo – very ill?”

“Yes, sir; I told you so, and then you began talking nonsense and hauling me about. I feel quite ashamed.”

“But I cannot go to her, girl. It is impossible,” cried North excitedly.

“But master said I was to fetch you, sir. Oh, I wouldn’t ha’ thought it of you!”

“I beg your pardon, Dally, I was not thinking. I – I – when was she taken bad?”

“Sudden like – early this morning, sir. You will come, won’t you? We’re quite frightened.”

“Yes, I’ll come,” said North quickly. “By what strange irony of fate am I called upon again to attend on her?” he thought to himself, as he recalled her last illness, and the way in which she had declared her passion for him.

“Idiot! fool!” he said. “What a mere child! And I a medical man, and let my weak vanity carry me away so that I could not see that all was delirium.”

“Did you speak, sir?” said Dally, who trotted beside him as he walked with rapid strides towards the Rectory.

“No. Yes. How was it all?”

“Well, sir, I hardly know; only that I left Miss Leo this morning for a minute, and when I came back she’d been drinking something out of a glass, and looked as if she’d poisoned herself.”

“Absurd! But this morning? How came you to be with her this morning? Why, it is only five now.”

“No, sir. We were up very early.”

“Early? Why, you look as if you had not been to bed. Here, Dally, what has been going on at the Rectory?”

“Going on, sir? Oh, I couldn’t tell you. And here’s master, sir; ask him.”

In fact, Salis had just run down from Leo’s room to see if the doctor was coming, and, on catching sight of him, came to hurry him on.

“For Heaven’s sake be quick!” he cried. “Leo is dying!”

North hurried in with him, and upstairs, to find Leo lying upon the bed where her brother had placed her, pale, motionless, and with her eyes half closed.

“Don’t ask questions, but act,” panted Salis.

“I am acting,” said North sternly, as he bent over his patient, and rapidly grasped the position. “Do you know what she has taken?”

“No.”

“What poisons have you in the house?”

“None.”

“Humph!” ejaculated the doctor, examining and smelling the glass. “She has got at something.”

“But, for pity’s sake, act – act,” said Salis, in horror. “You are letting her sink before your eyes.”

“Best thing too,” said North, laughing. “A miserable little jilt! I – ”

He paused in horror at the words which had fallen from his lips, and met his friend’s wondering gaze. Then, as if mastering himself, he gave sundry orders in a quick, sharp way, and evidently bestirred himself to restore the patient.

For the moment Salis had felt disposed to bid him leave the house; but it was a case of emergency, and, keeping a watchful eye upon North, he helped where it was necessary, with the result that an hour later Mary was left seated beside her, Leo being utterly prostrate, and the doctor followed his friend down to the breakfast-room where the meal was spread.

“Hah!” cried North, “that’s better. Breakfast’s a glorious meal. Come, old chap, sit down. Never mind the jade; she’s all right now.”

“In Heaven’s name, North, what does this mean?” cried Salis.

North burst into a hearty laugh, which his wild eyes seemed to contradict.

“Mean, eh?” he cried. “Why, I ought to ask you. What game has the lively little witch been up to now?”

“North!” cried Salis piteously.

“There, you needn’t tell me,” cried North, laughing. “Tom, eh? Ah, he’s a sad dog!”

“North, for pity’s sake, have some decency. I suspected that you had found something out, and I can understand your throwing her over like this.”

“Throw her over?” laughed North.

“Why she threw me over for Tom. She’s a queer one, old chap.”

“Are you a man?” cried Salis fiercely, “that you torture me like this. Can you not see the shame of it – the disgrace to Mary and me? Horace North, I feel as if I were grovelling in the mire, and you, my oldest friend, come and set your heel upon my neck.”

“Eh? Heel? Your neck?”

“Yes; I know that you must have suffered heavily. It has been a terrible affliction to both Mary and me, for we felt with you; but for Heaven’s sake, Horace, don’t rush into this reckless extreme. Man, man, I want your sympathy and help, if ever I did, and you – you are so changed.”

“Yes, yes,” said North, in a hoarse whisper, and with a ghastly look in his eyes. “So changed – so horribly changed.”

“Ah!” cried Salis joyfully; “that’s like your old self again. Why, North, what has come to you?”

“Come to me? You dog! Come to me, eh? Look as if I’d been drinking, do I? Oh, I’m all right enough!”

Salis looked at him aghast once more, just as if he had been indeed drinking; but his friend’s acts belied his words, for he uttered a low groan, laid his arms upon the table and let his head sink down.

There was such desolation in his manner that Salis crossed to him and laid his hand upon his shoulder, when, to his horror, the poor fellow uttered a wild shriek, and started up to dash to the other side of the room.

“Oh, it was you,” said North huskily, as he gazed wildly at his friend, his piteous eyes seeming to ask what he thought of his acts.

“Why, North, old fellow, what is the matter? You can trust me.”

“Matter?” cried North excitedly – “matter? No, no, nothing is the matter. A little out of order. Don’t take any notice of what I say.”

“But I must take notice. Do you suppose I can see my oldest and best friend go on in this mad way?”

“No, no; don’t say that,” cried North, catching him fiercely by the wrist; “not ‘mad way.’ A little eccentric: that’s all. Don’t take any notice.”

“But – ”

“No, no; don’t take any notice. Yes, I was upset about her. It was a shock.”

“I knew it was that,” cried Salis; “but, North, my dear fellow, you must master it: we are old friends. I will keep nothing from you. Let us be mutually helpful. Is it nothing to us to have such a horror as this in our midst?”

“It is terrible for you,” said North quietly. “The foolish girl!”

“Hah!” ejaculated Salis, beaming upon him; “that sounds like you.”

“I bear her no malice,” continued North dreamily. “It has all been one bitter mistake.”

“Yes, a bitter, bitter mistake!” assented Salis.

“But it is over now. It was in her delirium that she told me she loved me.”

“Leo told you this?”

“Yes. I ought to have known better. But I am only a weak man, Salis. It is over now.”

“It is for the best, my dear old fellow,” cried Salis warmly. “There, you are yourself again. Now tell me. What had she taken?”

“Some strong narcotic poison. I fancy it was belladonna. Did she use it for her eyes?”

“No. I think not. No,” said Salis thoughtfully. “Nature had not made it necessary for her to try and improve her looks.”

“No,” said North thoughtfully. “Had you quarrelled?”

Salis stood with his brows knit for a few moments, and then he turned sharply upon North.

“Tell me first,” he said, “you surprised my sister with that scoundrel, Candlish?”

North shuddered as he bowed his head.

“And I am right in thinking it was you who half killed him?”

“Yes,” said North; “it was I.”

“I don’t wonder at it,” said Salis quietly. “Now I’ll answer your question. Mary and I hoped we had broken all that affair off between my sister and Candlish; but last night I made a discovery, and we did quarrel.”

“And the weak, foolish girl flew to that narcotic poison to end her trouble,” said North thoughtfully. “Ah, well, you must watch her now. There is no danger. It is past.”

“Thanks to you!”

“Thanks to me? Perhaps so; but don’t send for me again unless it is a case of emergency. There, I must go now.”

He rose painfully, looking wild and haggard; but the next moment his whole appearance changed, and he gave his friend a tremendous back-handed blow in the chest.

“She’ll be all right, old chap, and ready to carry on her games again directly. She’s a lively one, parson; as sprightly a filly as was ever foaled. And you, too – you sham old saint; I can see through you, and Madame Crippleoria upstairs! I – ”

He smote himself heavily in the mouth, uttered a low groan, and with a despairing look in his eyes that seemed mingled of horror and fright, he glanced wildly at Salis, and hurried from the place.

Volume Three – Chapter Seven.
Haunted

“Leo, how could you do so foolish a thing?” said Mary Salis, a few days later, as she sat by her sister’s couch.

“What do you mean?” said Leo feebly.

“You know what I mean, dear. Is life so valueless that in a rash moment you would have cast it away?”

“Do you suppose, then, that I tried to take my life?” cried Leo, in a low, weak voice.

“Don’t let’s talk about it,” said Mary, with a shudder; “unless it is in sorrow.”

“Why was it placed there?” said Leo, catching her sister’s wrist.

“Placed there?”

“Yes. Was it Hartley’s doing?”

“Hartley’s doing?”

“Yes; the glass standing on my table as if it held water. Did Hartley do it, Mary?”

“Is your mind wandering, dear?” said Mary, laying her cool hand upon her sister’s white forehead.

“No; I’m as calm as you are. Hartley must have placed it ready for me – to get rid of his wicked sister, I suppose.”

“Leo! Don’t speak like that. How can you, dear? Hartley place a glass for you!”

“Yes. I thought it was water, and I drank it.”

“Hush, Leo, dear!”

“You don’t believe me! Very well; I cannot help it. The stuff was placed ready for me on the table, and I drank it.”

Mary sighed, but she kept her cool, soft hand pressed upon her sister’s brow.

“Why do you stop here?” said Leo, at last.

“Because I wish to talk to you – to try and be of some help.”

There was a silence which lasted some minutes, and then Leo turned her fierce dark eyes sharply on her sister.

“You have kept back his letters,” she said sternly.

“His letters!”

“Yes; he has written to me since I have been ill.”

Mary shook her head, and Leo gazed full in her eyes to satisfy herself that this was the truth.

“Has he sent to ask how I am?”

“No.”

Leo closed her eyes, and lay back with her lips moving slightly, while Mary watched and wondered whether North would come and see her sister again, and whether any fresh eccentricity had been noticed.

Had she known all she would have been less calm.

That morning Cousin Thompson had come down, gone straight to the Manor, and saluted Mrs Milt.

“Doctor in his room?”

“No, sir; master’s ill.”

“Not seriously?” said Cousin Thompson, with thoughts of being next of kin.

“I don’t know, sir,” said the housekeeper. “Master certainly don’t seem as I should like to see him.”

“Dear me!” said Cousin Thompson thoughtfully. “That’s bad, Mrs Milt; that’s bad. However, I’ll go up and see him.”

The housekeeper shook her head.

“What do you mean, Mrs Milt?”

“I mean that I don’t think he’ll see you, sir.”

“Oh, stuff and nonsense! Go and tell him I’m here.”

The housekeeper went away, and came back in five minutes, looking troubled.

“Master says you must excuse him, sir. That you are to please ask for what you want, but he is too unwell to see you.”

“Dear me, Mrs Milt; I’m sorry to hear this,” said the solicitor, with a look of commiseration. “But, then, he is a doctor, and must know his symptoms. Has he had any one to see him?”

“No, sir.”

“Then he is not very bad. I mean no doctor?”

“No, sir; no doctor.”

“I didn’t mean solicitor, Mrs Milt,” said Cousin Thompson, laughing unpleasantly. “Of course, if he required a solicitor he would send for me, eh?”

“I suppose so, sir.”

“He has not sent for a solicitor, of course – to make his will, eh?” jocularly. “No, no; of course not.”

“Perhaps you had better ask master about such things as that, sir,” said Mrs Milt, with asperity. “I know nothing about that.”

“You do, you hag!” said Cousin Thompson to himself: “you do, or you wouldn’t be so eager to disclaim all knowledge of such an act – and deed. This must be seen to, for I can’t afford to have you coming between me and my rights, madam. This must be seen to.”

“What would you like to take, sir?”

“Anything, my dear Mrs Milt, anything. Too busy a man to trouble about food. I’m going to see a client, and while I’m gone perhaps you will get a snack ready for me.”

“You will not sleep here, I suppose?”

“But I will sleep here, Mrs Milt,” said Cousin Thompson, smiling. “I do not feel as if I could go back to town without being able to take with me the knowledge that my cousin is in better health.”

“And not at the mercy of thieves and scheming people,” he muttered, as he went off to see Mrs Berens, as he put it, “re shares.”

North’s bedroom bell rang violently as Cousin Thompson disappeared down the road, and Mrs Milt went up to the door and knocked.

“Has that man gone?” came from within.

“Yes, sir.”

“Bring up the brandy.”

Mrs Milt uttered a sigh.

“May I bring you up a little broth, sir, too?” she whispered, with her face close to the panel. “You’ve had nothing to-day, sir, and you must be growing faint.”

“Bring up the brandy!” roared North fiercely. “Do you hear?”

“And him to speak to me like that!” sighed the housekeeper, as she went down for the spirit decanter; “and for him, too, who never took anything but tea for days together, to be asking for brandy in this reckless way. Five times have I filled up the spirit decanter this week.”

She returned with the brandy and knocked.

No answer.

“I’ve brought the brandy, sir.”

“Set it down.”

“Can I speak to you, sir?”

There was a fierce stamp of the foot which made the jug rattle in the basin on the washstand, and Mrs Milt set down the decanter close to the door, and went down again, raising her apron to her eyes.

“I wouldn’t have any one know how bad he is for the world,” she sighed; and, resisting the temptation to stand and watch the opening of the door, the old lady went into her own room and shut herself in.

As the sound of the closing door rose to the upstair rooms, that of North’s chamber was cautiously opened and a hand was thrust out to go on feeling about till it came in contact with the decanter, which it seized and bore in, the door being reclosed as the hand and arm disappeared.

The room within was darkened, and the figure of Horace North looked shadowy and strange as he walked hastily to and fro, now here, now there, as some wild animal restlessly parades the sides of his cage.

He held the decanter in his hand, and seemed in no hurry to use the spirit; but at last he set it down upon the dressing-table, drew the curtain a little on one side, and went to the washstand, from which he brought the water-bottle and tumbler.

As he poured out some of the spirit into a glass, the light shone full upon his face, and he blinked as if his eyes were dazzled by the glare.

The decanter made a chattering noise against the glass till he rested his trembling hand upon the side, ceased pouring, and closed his eyes for a few moments to rest.

As he opened them again his gaze fell upon his reflection in the dressing-glass upon the table, and he stood fixed to the spot, glaring at the wild-looking object before him, with its sunken eyes, wrinkled brow, and horrified, hunted, and frightened look.

He had seen such a face as that hundreds of times in the case of patients suffering from some form of mania, generally in connection with drink, and it petrified him for the time, for his brain refused to accept the fact that he was gazing at his own reflection.

It was a strange scene in that darkened room, with the one broad band of light shining in through the half-drawn curtain, falling upon that haggard and ghastly face gazing at its counterpart, each displaying a haunted look of horror – a dread so terrible that it explained North’s next action, which was to let fall decanter and glass with a crash upon the floor, before slowly backing away right to the furthest portion of the room, where he stood against the wall, panting heavily.

The curtain fell back, as if an invisible hand had held it for a time, and once more the room was in semi-gloom, while the faint, sick odour of the brandy gradually diffused itself through the place till it reached the trembling man’s nostrils and made him shudder.

“Like the smell of that place – like the smell of that place! Is this to go on for ever?”

Again he determinedly argued the question, and felt that, failing to arrest the decay of Luke Candlish, he had imbibed the essence of the man which, needing a fleshy body in which to live, had possessed him, so that his fate seemed to be that he must evermore lead a double life, in which there was one soul under the control of his well-schooled brain; the other wild, independent, and for whose words and actions he must respond.

“I cannot bear it,” he muttered, as he stood back against the wall, as far from the faint light as the room would allow. “It must be like madness in others’ eyes, and yet I am sane. I feel like a man haunted by a shadow, and yet it is a fancy – a terrible waking dream. But I will – Heaven help me! – I will look at it from a scientific point of view; say it is so – that I have arrested spirit and not body. Well, what then? Is there anything to fear?

“No; and I will not fear it,” he muttered, “any more than I would the dead; but,” he added, after a pause, “it is the living I fear. I cannot explain – I cannot control – this horror – bah! this essence – when it speaks, and the living give me the blame. No, I cannot, I dare not, explain. Who would believe? No one. They would say I was mad.”

A gentle tap at the door, but no response. A louder tapping, and no answer.

“Mr Thompson, sir, says he must see you on very particular business.”

North heard the words. His crafty, keen-eyed cousin was there. How could he see him now? It was impossible. He had declined before, and he was persisting again.

“Will you come down and see him, sir?”

“No: don’t do that, Horace, if you are ill. Open the door and I’ll come and chat to you there.”

No sound in reply; but directly after there was a loud noise of mocking laughter from within the room, a boisterous shout, and a partly-heard speech.

“Oh, my dear master!” cried Mrs Milt. “Ah!” ejaculated Cousin Thompson, across whose imagination glided the fair prospect of the beautiful Manor House estate, and his eyes glistened as he said softly, “I’m afraid he is very ill.”

Volume Three – Chapter Eight.
Cousin Thompson’s Duty

“Oh, no; it’s nothing at all, sir – nothing at all,” said Mrs Milt hastily; “and I didn’t know you’d come upstairs behind me, sir.”

“It was to save you a journey, my dear Mrs Milt,” said Cousin Thompson smoothly. “Yes, I’m afraid he is very ill. A little delirious, I think.”

“Delirious, sir? Oh, nonsense! Master’s often like that.”

“Indeed!” said Cousin Thompson, in a tone of voice which made the housekeeper wish she had bitten off her tongue before she had committed herself to such a speech. “You heard him utter that laugh?”

“Well, surely to goodness, sir, that don’t signify anything. A laugh! I wish I could laugh.”

“But he gave a ‘view halloo!’ and said something about a fox.”

“Well, really, sir, what if he did? There’s nothing master likes better after a hard week’s work and a lot of anxiety than a gallop after the hounds. It does him good. Why, a doctor wants taking out of himself sometimes, specially one who works as hard as master does. A medical man’s anxiety sometimes is enough to drive him mad.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” said Cousin Thompson smoothly. “Hadn’t you better knock again?”

“No, sir, I hadn’t,” said Mrs Milt tartly. “I’m quite sure master don’t want to be disturbed.”

“But really, my good woman, it seems to me that he ought to have medical advice.”

“And it seems to me, sir, as he oughtn’t to. If master’s not well and can’t do himself good, nobody else can, I’m sure; and if you please, sir, will you come downstairs? He’d be very angry if we stopped here.”

“Oh, certainly, Mrs Milt. Pray forgive me. I could not help feeling a little bit anxious about my cousin.”

“I haven’t got nothing to forgive, sir,” said the old lady; “only I’d have you know that I’m as anxious about my dear master as anybody.”

“Of course, Mrs Milt. Quite natural. Dr North is a remarkable man, and will some day become very famous.”

“I dessay, sir,” said Mrs Milt drily. “I think you said you should stop all night?”

“Yes, Mrs Milt; and I’m afraid my business here will keep me another day, if it is not troubling you too much.”

“Oh, that don’t matter at all, sir. I’m sure master wishes you to be made very comfortable, and as far as in me lies, sir, I shall carry out his wishes.”

“Thank you, Mrs Milt. I’m sure you will,” said Cousin Thompson; and Mrs Milt rustled out of the room, looking very hard and determined, but as soon as she was out of sight deep lines of anxiety began to appear about her eyes, and she wrung her hands.

“Yes,” said Cousin Thompson, going at once to North’s table and sitting down to write a letter; “I shall sleep here to-night, Mrs Milt, and I shall sleep here to-morrow night, and perhaps a great many other nights. It is no use to be a legal adviser unless I legally look after my sick cousin’s affairs.”

Cousin Thompson’s anxiety about his cousin gave his countenance a very happy and contented look.

“Things are looking up,” he said, as he finished and fastened his letter. “Everything comes to the man who waits. Even pleasant-looking, plump Mrs Berens may – who knows?”

He carefully tore off a stamp from a sheet in the writing-table drawer, moistened it upon a very large, unpleasant-looking tongue, and affixed it to the envelope.

“Perhaps she is right, and he will be better without medical advice,” he said, with a pleasant smile upon his countenance. “Why should I interfere? That is where some people make such a mistake: they will dig up a plant to look at its roots. I prefer letting a well-growing plant alone. Yes, things are looking up. Now for my genial baronet.”

He walked out into the ball, and took his hat, just as there was a ring at the gate bell.

“Who’s this?” he said; and he walked into the dining-room and nearly closed the door, but not quite.

The next minute there were steps in the hall, the door was opened, and the curate’s bluff voice rang through the place in an inquiry after the doctor.

“He’s very poorly, sir,” said Mrs Milt, in a low and cautious voice. “I don’t really know what to make of him.”

“I do,” said Salis. “He wants rest and change, Mrs Milt.”

“Yes, sir; I think that’s it, sir.”

“I wish I could get him away. I will.”

“Will you?” said Cousin Thompson softly.

“Here, I’ll go up and see him. In his room, I suppose?”

“Excuse me, sir; I think you had better not. It irritates him. Old Moredock came last night about some trifling ailment, and poor master was quite angry about it. Then Mr Thompson went up to his door, and it seemed to irritate him. You know how tetchy and fretful it makes any one when he’s ill.”

“I want to see him, Mrs Milt. I want to talk to him.”

Cousin Thompson’s eyes twitched.

“But I’ll go by your advice.”

Mrs Milt said something in reply which the listener missed, and consequently exaggerated largely as to its value, and directly after Salis went away in a new character – to wit, that of Cousin Thompson’s mortal enemy; though Salis himself was in utter ignorance of the fact.

“Well, and how are we to-day?” said the lawyer on entering the old library at the Hall.

Sir Thomas Candlish was lying back in his chair, with a cigar in his mouth, a sporting paper on his lap, and a soda and brandy – or, rather, two brandies and a soda – at his elbow.

“How are we to-day!” he snarled. “Don’t come here talking like a cursed smooth humbug of a doctor about to feel one’s pulse.”

“But I am a doctor, and I have come to feel your pulse, my dear sir,” said Cousin Thompson laughingly.

“Eh? – what? Again! Why, there’s nothing due yet.”

“There, there, there! don’t trouble yourself, my dear Sir Thomas. There is a little amount to meet; but you are not, as you used to be, worried about money matters. You can pay.”

“Yes,” snarled Tom Candlish; “and you seem to know it, too.”

“Come, that’s unkind. It isn’t generous, my dear sir. Surely if a man lends money he has a right to claim repayment.”

“Oh, yes, I know all about that – the old, old jargon of the craft. I don’t want to borrow now. If I did I suppose I should hear all about your friend in the City, eh? – your client who advances the money, eh?”

“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed Thompson. “One needn’t ask how you are. The old vein of fun is coming back flushed with health and strength.”

“Cursed slowly. Now, then, what do you want?”

“Oh, it is a mere trifling business.”

“A trifle.”

“It would have been serious to you once; but it is a trifle now.”

“Well, let’s have it.”

“No, no, not yet. There, I’ll take a cigar and a B. and S.”

“Ah, do,” said Candlish sarcastically. “Make yourself at home, pray.”

“To be sure I will. I’ve come to doctor you and do you good.”

“Damn all doctors!” sneered Candlish.

“Amen,” said Cousin Thompson merrily, as he took a cigar, lit it, and helped himself to the brandy. “Look here, sir; you sit alone and mope too much. You want exercise.”

“How the devil am I to take exercise, when, as soon as I get on a horse, my head begins to swim?”

“And a pretty girl or two to see you.”

Tom Candlish uttered a low, blackguardly, self-satisfied chuckle.

“Eh? I say. Hallo!” cried Cousin Thompson. “Oh, I see. Well, mum’s the word. But, come; you do want change; you’re too much alone. Now I’ve come – ”

“Oh, yes, you’ve come, and on a deuced friendly visit too.”

“Business and friendliness combined, my dear sir. Why, you used not to snub me like this. There, I meant to chat over a little money matter with you. Let’s do it pleasantly. Come up to that capital table, and let’s do it over a friendly game of billiards.”

Tom Candlish started from his seat, overturning his glass, which fell to the floor, and was shattered to atoms.

“My dear Sir Thomas! what is the matter?”

“Nothing – nothing,” he replied hoarsely. “Not well yet. A confounded spasm.”

“How unfortunate! Let me refill your glass, or shall I do it upstairs in the billiard-room?”

“Curse the billiards! I tell you I don’t play now.”

“Not play?”

“The sight of the balls rolling makes me giddy,” cried the wretched man, glaring at his visitor.

“Why, my dear sir, I’m very sorry I mentioned the game. There, let me give you a light. You’re out. That’s it. Really you ought to have the advice of a doctor.”

“Damn all doctors!” growled the baronet again.

“I can’t afford to have you ill, my dear Sir Thomas,” said Thompson, with an unpleasant laugh.

“No, you can’t afford to have me ill. Too good a cow to milk.”

Cousin Thompson laughed, and felt that he had made a mistake.

“I cannot advise you to have my cousin up, because he, too, is ill.”

Tom Candlish’s lips parted to utter a fierce oath, but he checked it, and swung himself round in his chair.

“Is he very ill?” he said eagerly.

“Yes; he seems to me to be very ill.”

“I’m glad of it – I’m very glad of it,” cried Candlish. “Come, you needn’t stare at me. I wish the beast was dead.”

“I was not staring at you,” said Cousin Thompson; “only listening. I think you and he don’t get on well; but he’s a very clever man – my cousin Horace; and if I could get a little advice from him on your case, I’m sure I would.”

“I want no advice. Only a little time. I’m coming round, I tell you – fast. But about North. Is he very bad?”

“Well, ye-es; I should say he was very bad.”

“What’s the matter? Has he caught some fever?”

“No. Oh dear, no! It’s mental. He seems a good deal unstrung. A little off his head, perhaps.”

“Why, curse it all, Thompson,” cried Candlish excitedly; “you don’t mean that the blackguard is going mad?”

“My dear Sir Thomas – my dear Sir Thomas,” said the lawyer, in a voice full of protestation; “I really cannot sit here and listen to you calling my cousin a blackguard.”

“Then stand up, man, and hear it. He is a blackguard, and I hate him, and I’d say it to his face if he were here. Now tell me, is he really bad?”

“Only a temporary attack. He is suffering, I’m afraid, from overstudy. But now to business.”

“Stop a minute, man: let me think. Hang the business! How much is it? I’ll write you a cheque. I can now, Thompson, old chap. Times are altered, eh?”

“Ah, and for the better, Sir Thomas.”

“Here, hold your tongue. Don’t talk. Let me see: not married; neither chick nor child; no brother. Why, Thompson, if North – curse him! – died, you’d have the Manor House!”

“Should I!” said Cousin Thompson, raising his eyebrows thoughtfully. “Well, yes, I suppose I am next of kin. But Horace North will outlive me.”

“Is he quite off his head?”

“Hush! don’t talk about it, my dear sir. Poor fellow, he is ill; but not so very bad. I shouldn’t like it to get about amongst his patients. People chatter and exaggerate to such an extent.”

Tom Candlish smoked furiously for a few moments, and then cast away the end of his cigar, and lit another, biting the end, and frowning at his visitor.

“Now about business,” said Thompson, at last.

“Curse business!” cried the squire, as he kept on watching the lawyer keenly. “Look here, Thompson, how was it that you two being cousins, he has so much money, and you’re as poor as Job?”

“Way of the world, my dear sir – way of the world.”

Tom Candlish sat back, chewing the end of his cigar and smoking hard.

“Look here, you Thompson! Now out with it; you don’t like Dr North?”

“Like him? I hate all doctors; just as you do.”

“That’s shuffling out of it,” said Candlish scornfully; “but you needn’t be afraid of me. I’m open enough. I’m not above speaking out and telling you I hate him. I wish you’d make a set on his pocket, and bleed him as you are so precious fond of bleeding me.”

“Oh, nonsense, nonsense!” said Cousin Thompson laughingly; and then the two men sat smoking and gazing one at the other in silence till their cigars were finished.