him as soon as possible. Mrs. Eldon is to
know nothing of his visit--you understand me!'

The servant withdrew. In rather less than an hour the doctor made his
appearance, with every sign of having been interrupted in his repose. He
was a spare man, full bearded and spectacled.

'Something wrong?' was his greeting as he looked keenly at his summoner.
'I didn't know you were here.'

'Yes,' Hubert replied, 'something is confoundedly wrong. I have been
playing strange tricks in the night, I fancy.'

'Fever?'

'As a consequence of something else. I shall have to tell you what must
be repeated to no one, as of course you will see. Let me see, when
was it?--Saturday to-day? Ten days ago, I had a pistol-bullet just
here,'--he touched his right side. 'It was extracted, and I seemed to be
not much the worse. I have just come from Germany.'

Dr. Manns screwed his face into an expression of sceptical amazement.

'At present,' Hubert continued, trying to laugh, 'I feel considerably
the worse. I don't think I could move if I tried. In a few minutes, ten
to one, I shall begin talking foolery. You must keep people away; get
what help is needed. I may depend upon you?'

The doctor nodded, and, whistling low, began an examination.

CHAPTER III

On the dun borderland of Islington and Hoxton, in a corner made by
the intersection of the New North Road and the Regent's Canal, is
discoverable an irregular triangle of small dwelling-houses, bearing the
name of Wilton Square. In the midst stands an amorphous structure, which
on examination proves to be a very ugly house and a still uglier Baptist
chapel built back to back. The pair are enclosed within iron railings,
and, more strangely, a circle of trees, which in due season do veritably
put forth green leaves. One side of the square shows a second place of
worship, the resort, as an inscription declares, of 'Welsh Calvinistic
Methodists.' The houses are of one storey, with kitchen windows looking
upon small areas; the front door is reached by an ascent of five steps.

The canal--_maladetta e sventurata fossa_--stagnating in utter foulness
between coal-wharfs and builders' yards, at this point divides two
neighbourhoods of different aspects. On the south is Hoxton, a region of
malodorous market streets, of factories, timber yards, grimy warehouses,
of alleys swarming with small trades and crafts, of filthy courts and
passages leading into pestilential gloom; everywhere toi