"I must put in a word, too," said the house-surgeon, approaching. "I think he has borne as much as will be beneficial for one day. I must ask you to leave now. To-morrow he will be better able to bear a visit." "Another ten minutes," pleaded Sir Francis. "Not one instant more. We will not talk." The surgeon bowed his head, when Harry, after warmly pressing the young man's hand--for he somehow felt thoroughly at ease within his own breast--retired with the surgeon and the detective to another part of the ward. "Curious case this, sir, eh?" said the sergeant. "Well, yes," said the surgeon. "But what a strange whim! We had not the most remote idea but that he was some young groom out of place. I judged the latter from the whiteness of his hands, and I must really do our young friend the credit of saying that he thoroughly looked his part." "I believe you, sir," said the sergeant, "for I was took in,--as reg'lar as I was ever took in before. But they will do this sort of thing, these young gents, with nothing else upon their hands. I don't wonder at it. Must be a miserable life!" The last remark was made so seriously, and in such perfect good faith, that the surgeon and Harry Clayton exchanged glances, smiling the while. "I hope," said the latter, "that he will soon be fit to be removed." "Well, before long," said the surgeon. "Ten days or so. Not sooner-- bad case rather. It was only this morning that he became sensible; and I don't think that even now he fairly realises the length of time that he has been lying there." "But this must be a most unusual case," said Clayton. "Surely you never had a suspension of the faculties for so long?" "Oh yes!" said the surgeon. "Such things do happen. Concussion of, or pressure upon the brain from a fracture, gives us at times some exceedingly interesting studies. In this case, the horse must have struck your friend full on the temple, and I wonder that he was not killed." Then, according to the custom of his _confreres_, the surgeon proceeded to dilate upon the number of eighths of an inch higher or lower which would have been sufficient for the blow to have caused death. But he was interrupted in his discourse by the approach of Sir Francis, who now came up, watch in hand. "The ten minutes are at an end, and I thank you, sir," he said. "I am indeed most grateful for your skilful treatment of my son. How can I ever disburden myself of the obligation?" "Oh! if you come to that, easily enough," laughed the surgeon, who fully believed, and held unflinchingly to the faith, that his hospital was the best in London, sparing no pains to let every one know that it was also one of the poorest. "We don't want such patients as your son here, Sir Francis Redgrave; and you may depend in future upon receiving our yearly report, with, I hope, your name down as one of our donors."