"Exactly," said the professor; "because it is at my rooms in Fountain Court." CHAPTER THREE. PERFECTLY SANE. "Good morning, Frank, my lad," said Doctor Morris, shaking hands upon the young man entering his study. "Ready for business?" "Ready, yes," was the reply, made with feverish haste. "Am I late?" "Late? No," said the doctor, glancing at the clock on the study mantelpiece. "Half an hour before the time." "Oh, nonsense; that thing's wrong. Ever so much slow." "Don't you insult my clock, my boy," said the doctor. "It keeps as good time as any one in London. It's you who are too fast. Keep cool, my lad, keep cool." "Who can keep cool at a time like this?" said Frank impatiently. "You, if you try. Surgeons have to. Important work requires cool heads." "I'll try," said Frank briefly. "Fred Landon was right last night in putting matters off till this morning, so that we could all have a good night's rest." Frank looked quickly up at his brother's old school-fellow with something like envy, as he sat there softly stroking the great, dark brown beard, which flowed pretty well all over the breast of the heavy blue dressing-gown, tied with thick silk cords about his waist, and thought what a fine-looking specimen of humanity he was; while the doctor at the same time scanned the rather thin, anxious face before him and mused to himself-- "Poor Frank! the boy looks pulled down and careworn, and this has completely upset him. I must take him in hand a bit. He has been working too hard, too, over his chemistry." Just then their eyes met, and Frank coloured a little, as if self-conscious. "I was afraid Landon would be here first," he said hurriedly, "and that you would both be waiting for me." "You ought to have known him better," said the doctor, laughing. "Fred Landon never is first at any meeting. I always allow him an hour's latitude." "Oh, surely he will not be late this morning?" cried Frank anxiously. "I hope not; but he may be. Of course he meant to be punctual, and I have no doubt he got up and breakfasted extra early; but anything takes off his attention--a book, a drawing, a note about Egypt--and he forgets everything else. You should have called in the Temple this morning and brought him on." "Of course! I didn't think of that. Here, I'll go and fetch him at once." "No, no; give him time. Perhaps he will have been thinking so seriously about poor Harry, that for once he will be punctual." "Here he is!" cried Frank excitedly, as a thundering knock was heard at the front door, and he sprang up in his anxiety to go and open to their friend himself. "No, no; don't do that," cried the doctor, smiling. "Sam would be disgusted." "Oh, I can't stop to think about Sam's feelings now," cried Frank hurriedly. "But you must keep cool. Look here, Frank, you are eighteen, and pretty well a man grown." "What has that to do with it?" said the lad impatiently.