ntom's
conversation on the preceding night occurred to me suddenly. What
if--could it be that----

I called the landlady. The whole inn was in a state of confusion. The
news of the Baron's death had circulated through the whole village by
this time.

"Perhaps," said I, "the Baron may not be quite dead, he may be in a
trance, he may be---- At any rate, don't you think it would be best to
send for the doctor, to hear his opinion?"

The doctor was accordingly sent for, and arriving shortly, was at once
shown into the Baron's room. The landlady and a great part of the
household followed.

"Why, of course he's dead," replied the leech, brusquely, in answer to
their eager questions. "Can't you see that?"

"If, nevertheless," said I, timidly, "you would not mind opening a
vein----"

"I'll open a vein, if you like," he answered, bluntly; "but, I tell you,
the man's dead!"

Then, taking out his lancet, he opened a vein in the right arm.

"You see now, I hope," said the leech, "that it is utterly useless;
there is not a drop of blood."

"Then," said the landlady, "the Baron really _is_--dead?"

"Dead! _Dead as mutton_," replied the doctor.

At this juncture the face of the corpse grew violently convulsed, his
eyes rolled, the colour returned suddenly to his cheeks, and leaping
from the bed with terrific energy, he seized the bolster, with which he
belaboured the terrified inmates of "The Swan" right and left, knocking
over the little doctor, and sending me into the landlady's lap, and the
"boots" flying out of the room with a yell of terror, besides upsetting
every utensil of crockery that stood in the way.

"Dead, am I!" roared the Baron, "dead, eh! Where's that scurvy
apothecary--that spreader of plaisters, that pill-maker, that
cow-bleeder--that dared to open one of _my_ veins?"

The little doctor had crept under the bed.

"And you, sir," cried he, turning upon me, "for advising him to try his
filthy experiments upon me," and swinging round his bolster, sent me
tottering against the wall.

"Dead as _mutton_, eh! By the blood of my ancestors, I never had such
foul language used to me before. What! compare the aristocratic flesh
of one descended from such a line of ancestors as mine to mutton! Ugh!
_Mutton_, quotha? I'll mutton _you_," cried the Baron, aiming a blow at
the little doctor's head, which he caught peeping from beneath the bed.

The doctor ducked in his head, and attempted a clandestine escape on