"Oh, you have come," said she, presenting her cheek to her son; "I thought that after all you might be detained by that mysterious case you have at the hospital. Here's Dr. Rippon--and Julius too--dying to hear all about it;" but she gave no hint of the serious conversation which she said in her note she desired. "Not I, Lady Lefevre," Julius protested. "I don't like medical revelations; they make me feel as if I were sitting at the confessional of mankind." Noting by the way that Julius and his sister seemed much taken up with each other, and that Julius, while as fascinating as ever, and as ready and apt and intelligent of speech, seemed somewhat more chastened in manner and less effervescent in health,--like a fire of coal that has spent its gas and settled into a steady glow of heat,--he turned to Dr Rippon, a tall, thin old gentleman of over seventy, but who yet had a keen tongue, and a shrewd, critical eye. He had been an intimate friend of the elder Lefevre, and the son greeted him with respect and affection. "Who is the gentleman?" said Dr Rippon, aside, when their greeting was over. "It does an old man's heart good to see and hear him," and the old doctor straightened himself. "But he'll get old too; that's the sad thing, from my point of view, that such beauty of person and swift intelligence of mind _must_ grow old and withered, and slow and dull. What did you say his name is, John?" "His name is Courtney--Julius Courtney," said Lefevre. "Courtney," mused the old man, stroking his eyebrow; "I once knew a man of that name, or, rather, who took that name. I wonder if this friend of yours is of the same family; he is not unlike the man I knew." "Oh," said Lefevre, immediately interested, "he may be of the same family, but I don't know anything of his relations. Who was the man, may I ask, that you knew?" "Well," said the old gentleman, settling down to a story, which Lefevre was sure would be full of interest and contemporary allusion, for the old physician had in his time seen many men and many things--"it is a romantic story in its way." He was on the point of beginning it when dinner was announced. "I should like to hear the story when we return to the drawing-room," said Lefevre. Over dinner, Lefevre was beset with inquiries about his mysterious case:--Was the young man better? Had he been very ill? Was he handsome? What had the foreign-looking stranger done to him? and for what purpose had he done it? These questions were mostly ignorant and thoughtless, and Lefevre either parried them or answered them with great reserve. When the ladies retired from table, however, more particular and curious queries were pressed upon him as to the real character of the outrage upon the young man. He replied that he had not yet discovered, though he believed he was getting "warm." "Is it fair," said Julius, "to ask you in what direction you are looking for an explanation or revelation?"