n the most ordinary care and
precaution his patient need not have died--indeed, his death was caused
by the treatment. The rubbing of the leg detached a portion of the clot,
that might easily have been dissolved by rest and local applications. As
it was, it went to his lung, and he died.

When he saw how things were going, Sir John tried to minimise matters,
but, unfortunately for him, I had my written diagnosis and a copy of his
telegram, documents from which he could not escape. Nor could he deny
the results of the _post-mortem_, which took place in the presence and
with the assistance of the third practitioner, a sound and independent,
though not a very successful, man.

When everything was over there was something of a scene. Sir John
asserted that my conduct had been impertinent and unprofessional. I
replied that I had only done my duty and appealed to Dr. Jeffries, who
remarked drily that we had to deal not with opinions and theories but
with facts and that the facts seemed to bear me out. On learning the
truth, the relatives, who until now had been against me, turned upon
Sir John and reproached him in strong terms, after which they went away
leaving us face to face. There was an awkward silence, which I broke
by saying that I was sorry to have been the unwilling cause of this
unpleasantness.

"You may well be sorry, sir," Sir John answered in a cold voice that was
yet alive with anger, "seeing that by your action you have exposed me to
insult, I who have practised in this city for over thirty years, and who
was your father's partner before you were in your cradle. Well, it
is natural to youth to be impertinent. To-day the laugh is yours, Dr.
Therne, to-morrow it may be mine; so good-afternoon, and let us say no
more about it," and brushing by me rudely he passed from the house.

I followed him into the street watching his thick square form, of which
even the back seemed to express sullen anger and determination. At a
distance of a few yards stood the brother of the dead man, Mr. Selby,
talking to Dr. Jeffries, one of whom made some remark that caught Sir
John's ear. He stopped as though to answer, then, changing his mind,
turned his head and looked back at me. My sight is good and I could see
his face clearly; on it was a look of malignity that was not pleasant to
behold.

"I have made a bad enemy," I thought to myself; "well, I am in the
right; one must take risks in life, and it is better to be hated than