So he strolled up towards the villa. He had nearly reached it, when a woman ran past him making the most extraordinary sounds: I can only describe it as screaming under her breath. Though he only saw her back, he recognised Mrs. Maxley. One back differeth from another, whatever you may have been told to the contrary in novels and plays. He called to her: she took no notice, and darted wildly through the gate of Albion Villa. Alfred's curiosity was excited, and he ventured to put his head over the gate. But Mrs. Maxley had disappeared. Alfred had half a mind to go in and inquire if anything was the matter: it would be a good excuse. While he hesitated, the dining-room window was thrown violently up, and Sampson looked out. “Hy! Hardie! my good fellow! for Heaven's sake a fly, and a fast one!” It was plain something very serious had occurred: so Alfred flew towards the nearest fly-stand. On the way, he fell in with a chance fly drawn up at a public-house; he jumped on the box and drove rapidly towards Albion Villa. Sampson was hobbling to meet him--he had sprained his ankle or would not have asked for a conveyance--to save time he got up beside Alfred, and told him to drive hard to Little Friar Street. On the way he explained hurriedly: Mrs. Maxley had burst in on him at Albion Villa to say her husband was dying in torment: and indeed the symptoms she gave were alarming, and, if correct, looked very like lockjaw. But her description had been cut short by a severe attack, which choked her and turned her speechless and motionless, and white to the very lips. “'Oho,' sis I, 'brist-pang!' And at such a time, ye know. But these women are as unseasonable as they are unreasonable. Now, angina pictoris or brist-pang is not curable through the lungs, nor the stomick, nor the liver, nor the stays, nor the saucepan, as the bunglintinkerindox of the schools pretind, but only through that mighty mainspring the Brain; and instid of going meandering to the Brain round by the stomick, and so giving the wumman lots o' time to die first, which is the scholastic practice, I wint at the Brain direct, took a puff o' chlorofm put m' arm round her neck, laid her back in a chair--she didn't struggle, for, when this disorrder grips ye, ye cant move hand nor foot--and had my lady into the land of Nod in half a minute; thin off t' her husband; so here's th' Healer between two stools--spare the whipcord, spoil the knacker!--it would be a good joke if I was to lose both pashints for want of a little unbeequity, wouldn't it--Lash the lazy vagabin!--Not that I care: what interest have I in their lives? they never pay: but ye see custom's second nature; an d'Ive formed a vile habit; I've got to be a Healer among the killers: an d'a Triton among--the millers. Here we are at last, Hiven be praised.” And he hopped into the house faster than most people can run on a good errand. Alfred flung the reins to a cad and followed him.