The Doctor looked at his companion, repeating: "Can you come with me? I may want assistance." "With pleasure, sir! You'll take her to the hospital, I suppose?" "No. My house is nearer; and, unless the wound is looked to at once, I don't answer for the consequences. There is no objection, I suppose?" The sergeant thought there could be no objection, although the hospital was "the usual thing." The Doctor put aside that consideration contemptuously. From what he could see of the wound, he was prepared to state professionally that any delay would be highly dangerous. The sergeant yielded the point respectfully, but protestingly; and the cab came, bringing an excited crowd in its train. There was no lack of proffered help; but the Doctor and the sergeant lifted the insensible woman into the cab between them. On arriving at the Doctor's house the two men carried her indoors; then bells rang, maid-servants hurried, exclaimed, and questioned; and soon the door of the library was closed upon all except Mrs. Jessop and the Doctor. The sergeant retired to the dining-room, and meditatively took an inventory of its furniture and appointments, as he awaited further developments. Noticing the Doctor's decanter of choice old port, which was still upon the table where he had left it, the officer helped himself to a glassful, drinking it with evident relish. Half an hour passed before the Doctor entered. He took his seat thoughtfully by the fire, and motioned to the sergeant to draw his chair nearer. "The wound is not much--merely a deep flesh-wound," he observed, abruptly. "Glad to hear it, I'm sure," returned the sergeant, politely. "She has lost a great deal of blood, will be much weakened, and is totally insensible now," Doctor Brudenell continued; "but no vital part is touched--not the fault of that scoundrel, though, sergeant." "Ah!" replied the sergeant, intelligently. The Doctor had motioned to him to help himself to the wine, and he did so now with contemplative deliberation. "Then you think it is a case of intended murder, I take it, sir?" "As far as my judgment serves me--yes. I should say the blow was meant to kill her--indeed, only the steel of her corset saved her." "H'm, I thought as much! Now, as to motive, sir; have you got any theory?" "Robbery, I suppose. Ah"--as the sergeant shook his head with a wise air--"you don't think so, then!"