"A rough night, sir," remarked the young embryo surgeon, as he kept by his side. "It is that," said Dr. Davenal. Away they splashed through the muddy pools in the streets. It was quite dark now, with the unusually gloomy evening, and the gas lamps only served to mislead their eyesight in the haste they had to make. There could be no waiting to pick the way. The Infirmary was at a considerable distance from Mrs. Scott's, and ere they reached it the cold had struck to one of them. The one was not Julius Wild. When they came in view of the Infirmary, Julius Wild ran forward to give notice that the doctor was approaching. Two or three of the medical men were in the great hall looking out for him; Mark Cray was one of them. The news of the accident had travelled in the town, and the surgeons attached to the Infirmary were collecting there. "We began to despair of you," cried Dr. Ford, "and there's no time to be lost. I was just recommending Mr. Cray to be the one to officiate." Dr. Davenal turned his eye with an eagle glance on Mark Cray ere the words had well left Dr. Ford's lips. The look, the warning conveyed in it, was involuntary. Had Mark actually acceded to the recommendation, the look could scarcely have been sterner. Mark coloured under it, and his thoughts went back to Lady Oswald. Never, in Dr. Davenal's presence, must he attempt to try his skill again. CHAPTER XXVIII. THE LAST MEETING. The night's work told on Dr. Davenal. The soaking rain, the chilling wind, had struck inward the perspiration which Mrs. Scott's heated room had induced. On the next day he was visibly ill. Sara noticed it, and begged him not to go out. "Not go out, child? I must go out." "But you are not in a state for it. I am sure you are very ill." "I caught cold last night; that's what it is. It will go off in a day or two." "Yes if you will lie by and nurse yourself. Not if you go out to make it worse." "I have never lain by in all my life, Sara. A doctor has no time for it. What would become of my patients?" He went out to his carriage, then waiting for him. The close carriage. Bright as the day was--for the weather had changed--it was the close carriage that had been ordered round by the doctor. "Is master ill, I wonder?" thought Roger, when he found it was only to pay the daily round of near visits. As the doctor went out at the gate it happened that Oswald Cray was passing. And Mr. Oswald Cray quite started when he saw Dr. Davenal, the change in him was so great. It was impossible for either of them to pass the other, had they so wished it, without being guilty of absolute rudeness, and they stopped simultaneously. "You are ill, Dr. Davenal?" exclaimed Oswald, speaking impulsively. "Middling. I have got a cold hanging about me. We have had some bad weather here."