But he could think and act now. The madness of his night at home came back to him clearly, and he sent a telegraphic message to his father, begging him not to be uneasy at his sudden departure, and another far longer to his sister asking her forgiveness; that he had been obliged to hurry away, and bidding her appeal to her father for help, as being the proper course. "What will she think of me, poor child?" he said to himself, after he had dispatched his messages. "I must write to her. It was cruel, but I could not stay. I should have gone mad. Ah, well," he muttered, after a time, "it is all over. Now for work." There was a peculiar set expression in his countenance as he dressed himself carefully--a very necessary preparation after many hours of neglect--and, taking a cab, had himself driven to Sir Denton Hayle's, where he was obliged to wait for some time before he could obtain an interview, and then only for a few minutes. Those were sufficient, though. "Ah, Elthorne, back again? How is the father?" "Much better." "That's right. Then you have come back to work." Neil did not answer for a few moments. "You asked me to take that post, Sir Denton," he said at last. "Yes, my dear boy, I did; but don't say you have repented now it is too late." "Is it too late?" said Neil sadly. "Yes: another appointment has been made, and the man sails in a week." "I am sorry," said Neil slowly. "I have thought better of the offer now, and I was prepared to go." They parted, and he went back to his chambers to think, and form some plans for his future. Two hours later he was surprised by the coming of Sir Denton, the old man looking flushed and excited as he entered the room. "You, sir!" "Yes, my boy. I have been and seen the man appointed, and he jumps at the chance of getting out of it. He says that he has the offer of a better thing, which is all nonsense. The fact is that he is afraid of the venture. Now there must be no trifling, Elthorne: it must be a frank, manly yes, or no. Stop; let me tell you again what it really means. Then you can say whether you will go. First, there is a great deal of risk." "Yes, I suppose so." "The coast is a deadly one for Europeans; the society is not all that could be desired; and the man who goes must be a bit of a hero in the strife." "Then you want a better man." "No: I want you. You are the man, but I cannot let you definitely say _yes_ without letting you see all your risk." "Bah, Sir Denton!" cried Neil. "What has a doctor or a surgeon to do with risk? You would not say to a man, `Don't go to that house to attend the husband or wife: it is a horribly infectious fever.'" "No; certainly not." "Or, `That man who has been crushed by a fall of rock will bleed to death, if a surgeon does not risk his own life by going to his help: don't go.'" "No," replied Sir Denton quietly; "the world treats us very coolly, and gives us very little credit for what we do."