"Sit down," said the doctor, coming in front of the counter, preparatory to inquiring into the symptoms. She sat down in one of the two chairs: and Duffham, after sundry questions, told her that her liver was out of order. She answered that she could have told him that, for nothing but "liver" was ever the matter with her. He went behind the counter again to make up a bottle of some delectable stuff good for the complaint, and Eunice sat waiting for it, when the surgery-door was pushed open with a whirl and a bang, and Tod and I burst in. To see Eunice Gibbon there, took us aback. It seemed a very curious coincidence, considering what we had come about. "Well, young gentlemen," quoth Duffham, looking rather surprised, and detecting our slight discomfiture, "does either of you want my services?" "Yes," said Tod, boldly; "Johnny does: he has a headache. We'll wait, Mr. Duffham." Leaning on the counter, we watched the progress of the making-up in silence, Duffham exchanging a few words with Eunice Gibbon at intervals. Suddenly he opened upon a subject that caused Tod to give me a private dig with his elbow. "And how were the cries last night?" asked Duffham. "Did you hear much of them?" "There was no cries last night," answered Eunice--which brought me another dig from Tod. "But wasn't the wind high! It went shrieking round the Torr like so many mad cats. Two spoonfuls twice a-day, did you say, sir?" "Three times a-day. I am putting the directions on the bottle. You will soon feel better." "I've been subject to these bilious turns all my life," she said, speaking to me and Tod. "But I don't know when I've had as bad a one as this. Thank ye, sir." Taking the bottle of physic, she put it into her basket, said good-morning, and went away. Duffham came to the front, and Tod jumped on the counter and sat there facing us, his long legs dangling. I had taken one of the chairs. "Mr. Duffham, what do you think we have come about?" began Tod, dropping his voice to a mysterious key. "Don't you go and faint away when you hear it." "Faint away!" retorted old Duffham. "I'll be shot if it would not send some people into a faint! That Gibbon woman has just said that no cries were to be heard last night." "Well?" "Well, there _were_ cries; plenty of them. And awful cries they were. I, and Johnny, and Mrs. Frank Radcliffe--yes, she was with us--stood in that precious field listening to them till our blood ran cold. _You_ heard them, you know, on Saturday night." "Well?" repeated Duffham, staring at Tod. "Look here. We have found it out--and have come over to tell you--and to ask you what can be done," went on Tod earnestly, jumping off the counter and putting his back against the door to make sure of no interruption. "The cries come from Frank Radcliffe. He is not dead." "What?" shouted Duffham, who had turned to face Tod and stood in the middle of the oil-cloth, wondering whether Tod was demented.