These shared the fate of the sherry, and stood untouched, while, now that they were alone, the important subject of the appointment was discussed, and Sir Denton gave his views concerning the mission. "Yes; it makes me wish I were thirty years younger, Neil," said the old surgeon. "People talk about it as a forlorn hope, but I maintain that there is victory to be won, and I am sure that you will win it. People are dying off as we read of their dropping away during the plague. There must be a reason for this, and you are going to discover it, and put a stop to this terrible bill of mortality. Ah, I wish I were going with you to work hand in hand, advising and asking advice." "I wish you were going, sir," said Neil quietly. "Too old--too old, my dear boy--much too old. Now tell me, where shall you attack the demon first?" "Clean out his den," said Neil, smiling. "Good; of course. Sanitation. An Augean task, my young Hercules, but that is it. People will not believe it, but dirt is the nursery bed for most of the germs of disease; and the wonder to me is, not that so many people in our more crowded parts are smitten down, but how they manage to live. Now where you are going, that deadly fever runs riot. I do not believe it could ever exist if everything possible were done to cleanse the place." "I suppose not," said Neil thoughtfully. "It could not. I've been thinking it all over, my dear boy, and I have no fear whatever for you. Work will keep you healthy; and now I suppose you would like me to give you a couple of valuable recipes in which I have enormous faith." "By all means," said Neil eagerly. "Will you write them down?" "No: you can remember them. As to quantities, give them _a discretion_--extravagantly. Here they are: pure water and whitewash. They are death destroyers, my dear boy, and--bless me, I did not want to be disturbed this evening." The butler entered the room and went up behind his master's chair. "I am too much engaged to see anyone," said the old man testily. The butler said a few words in a low tone. "Bless me! Oh, yes; of course. I'll come directly. Will you excuse me for a few minutes, Elthorne? Pray help yourself to wine." "Certainly," replied Neil, and the old man went hurriedly out of the room, leaving his guest to his thoughts, and he sat there with rugged brow thinking over the past and his future, and asking himself whether he, a surgeon, had done right in accepting the post. His musings were long, for the few minutes extended into an hour, but; he did not notice the lapse of time. There was so much to think about. His father? Well, he could have done no more if he had stayed. His sister? That difficulty would settle itself, for, girl as she was, Isabel had plenty of their father's will and determination; and he felt sure that she would never marry one man while she loved another. His brother?