“Dear, how bad you look!” said Barbara, giving him a glance of mingled apprehension and affection. “Matters get worse and worse with me, Bab,” he replied. “I sometimes scarcely know what I am doing.” “It is all nerves, dear,” she answered. “If so, do you know a cure?” “Common sense,” she replied. “What do you mean, Barbara?” “What I say. You are very anxious. If your mind were set at rest your nervous fears would vanish.” “Ah, but that’s just it. I can’t set my mind at rest. You don’t know what happened last night.” He then related his interview with Mrs. Pelham and his further interview with Tarbot. Barbara listened attentively. “I know what I would do,” she said suddenly. “What?” “You are not satisfied with the death certificate?” “No.” “You suspect Dr. Tarbot?” “Heaven help me, Barbara, I do. I cannot help it. The man is a scoundrel. I cannot look at him without being assured on that point.” “I don’t like him,” said Barbara; “but never, no, never for a single moment, can I think of him as you do. The dear little fellow came by his death through natural causes—of that I am firmly convinced, but if I were you, Dick——” “Yes?” he asked. “I would go and see the two great consultants who were called in when little Piers was so ill.” Pelham gazed at her anxiously. “That is a capital idea,” he said, and his brow cleared. “You will act on it, Dick—will you not?” “I will think about it,” he replied. “The two great consultants,” she called after him, as he left the room. “You’ll visit them both. Ask them if their verdict coincides with that of Luke Tarbot, and then go to the chemist, Dick, and get a copy of the prescription for yourself.” “Good, good!” he answered. “You’re a wife in a thousand, Bab.” He kissed her affectionately. Pelham felt too much excited to eat any breakfast. He went into the Park and wandered about until it was late enough to visit Sir Richard Spears. When at ten o’clock he presented himself at the house of the great specialist his eyes were gleaming brightly, but the rest of his face looked haggard. He asked if the doctor was in. The servant replied in the affirmative. Pelham then inquired if he might see him. “Have you an appointment, sir?” asked the man. “No; but, all the same, it is most urgent that I should see him as soon as possible.” As Pelham spoke he produced his card. The man looked at it. “I will inquire if the doctor can see you, sir. You are early, and it maybe possible that he can give you an interview before his other patients arrive.” The man took Pelham’s card into the doctor’s inner sanctum. He soon reappeared and motioned Pelham to follow him. Sir Richard Spears had keen eyes. As patient after patient appeared before him he was wont to give each a quick glance, after which he scarcely troubled to watch their faces again. In that glance, as a rule, he found out what was the matter with each of those who came to ask him for relief.