to be--stepped quickly across the
floor, flushing angrily, as well she might; but, as she reached the
door, it flew open and a small, spruce, middle-aged man burst into the
room.

"Your father is mad, Ruth!" he exclaimed; "absolutely stark mad! And I
refuse to hold any further communication with him."

"The present interview was not of his seeking," Miss Bellingham replied
coldly.

"No, it was not," was the wrathful rejoinder; "it was my mistaken
generosity. But there--what is the use of talking? I've done my best
for you and I'll do no more. Don't trouble to let me out; I can find
my way. Good-morning." With a stiff bow and a quick glance at me, the
speaker strode out of the room, banging the door after him.

"I must apologize for this extraordinary reception," said Miss
Bellingham; "but I believe medical men are not easily astonished. I
will introduce you to your patient now." She opened the door and, as I
followed her into the adjoining room, she said: "Here is another
visitor for you, dear. Doctor----"

"Berkeley," said I. "I am acting for my friend Doctor Barnard."

The invalid, a fine-looking man of about fifty-five, who sat propped up
in bed with a pile of pillows, held out an excessively shaky hand,
which I grasped cordially, making a mental note of the tremor.

"How do you do, sir?" said Mr. Bellingham. "I hope Doctor Barnard is
not ill."

"Oh, no," I answered; "he has gone for a trip down the Mediterranean on
a currant ship. The chance occurred rather suddenly, and I bustled him
off before he had time to change his mind. Hence my rather
unceremonious appearance, which I hope you will forgive."

"Not at all," was the hearty response. "I'm delighted to hear that you
sent him off; he wanted a holiday, poor man. And I am delighted to
make your acquaintance, too."

"It is very good of you," I said; whereupon he bowed as gracefully as a
man may who is propped up in bed with a heap of pillows; and having
thus exchanged broadsides of civility, so to speak, we--or, at least,
I--proceeded to business.

"How long have you been laid up?" I asked cautiously, not wishing to
make too evident the fact that my principal had given me no information
respecting his case.

"A week to-day," he replied. "The _fons et origo mali_ was a
hansom-cab which upset me opposite the Law Courts--sent me sprawling in
the middle of the road. My own fault, of course--at least, the cabby
said so, and I suppose he k