but they drew back thoughtfully as Pliny, catching a glimpse of the
new-comer, uttered an eager exclamation.

"It's no use," he said, wildly, as Theodore bent over him. "No use, you
see; the imps have made up their mind to have me, and they'll get me,
body and soul. I'm bound--I can't stir. I promised you--oh yes, I can
promise--I'm good at that--they don't mind that at all; but when it
comes to performing then they chain me."

"That is the way he has raved ever since the accident," said the elder
physician, addressing Theodore. "It is an indication of a disordered
brain. Are you the young man whom he has been calling? We were in hopes
you could quiet him."

"Does the disorder arise from liquor," said Theodore, sadly.

"Oh no, not at all; at least it is not the immediate cause. Can you
control him, do you think?"

Theodore bent over him; he was still repeating wildly, "They'll get me,
body and soul," when a cool hand was laid on his burning forehead, and a
quiet, firm voice spoke the words: "Pliny, they _shall not_ get you. Do
you understand? They _shall not_." And at that forlorn and apparently
hopeless hour the young man's faith arose. Some voice from that inner
world seemed to reach his ear, and repeat his own words with strong
meaning: "No, they _shall_ not."

The physicians, who had hoped a great deal from the coming of this young
man, about whom the thoughts of their patient seemed to center, had not
hoped in vain. He grew quieter and gradually sank into a sort of stupor,
which, if it were not very encouraging, seemed less heart-rending than
the wild restlessness of the other state.

Then Theodore bethought himself again of the Hastings' family. No, they
had not been sent for, everybody had thought about it, but nobody had
acted. Mr. Roberts was not at home, and the two doctors had been busy
about more necessary business.

"It must be attended to immediately," Theodore said. "Which of you
gentlemen is Mr. Hastings' family physician?"

"Neither of us," answered the elder gentleman, laconically. "_I_ don't
even know who his family physician is."

"Dr. Armitage is," added the younger, from his position at the foot of
the bed. "And he is out of town."

"That's lucky," was the sententious comment of the old doctor.

"Why?" asked Theodore, fixing earnest, searching eyes on his face.

"Because Dr. Armitage uses rum, _rum_, RUM, everywhere and always: and
ten drops of it would be as certain death to this yo