"I'll tell you," said Hopper. "If your girl's left like that, she'll die. I'm going to send her the best doctor in town." Ten minutes after Hopper was at the station, where he telegraphed one short message, climbed slowly into his seat, reached the terminus in due time, and on being driven to his chambers found some one waiting for him. "How is she?" cried Tom eagerly, as the cats crowded round their master. "Dying!" said Hopper briefly. "Dying?" "Yes. I've come for the best doctor in London." "And you sit still there!" cried Tom. "Have you sent him?" "No," said Hopper coolly. "Wait a minute. Tom, my lad, do you think you can throw away your pride to save her?" "I'd throw away my life," he cried passionately. "That wouldn't save hers. Here, take this. Quick--there's a hundred pounds. Take it, you young fool! Go down at once to her, and throw away all nonsense. Tell her you love her; ask her to forgive you; and--" "Yes--yes," cried Tom. "Go on." "And marry her, you young idiot!" "But a train?" cried Tom despairingly. "It will be too late to-night." "You have the money: if necessary, take a special," said the old man. "What's fifty or a hundred pounds to happiness, or life?" Tom caught the old fellow's hand in his, and it was retained. "Stop one moment, my lad," he said. "You feel some shrinking about your brother's disgrace. I was burning these by degrees. See--the last of the forged bills." He took six from his pocket-book, and burned them. "There," he said, "that business is dead, and you can go with a lighter heart. Perhaps I shall come down next week. Be off." Tom bounded down the stairs, leaped into the first cab, and bade the man gallop to London Bridge station. "All right, sir." The little door in the roof was slammed down, there was a flick of the long whip, and for about half a minute the horse broke into a short canter, one which subsided into a trot a few minutes later. A loud rattling at the top of the cab spurred the driver to fresh exertions, and once more the wretched horse cantered, but dropped again into a trot, and there was an end of it. Tom had to sit and fume, as at every turn he seemed to be hemmed in by other vehicles; and, no matter how the driver tried, there was always a huge, heavily-laden van in front, blocking up the way. "I think I'll take a short cut round, sir," said the cabman. "The streets is werry full to-night." "Anything to get there quickly." So the driver turned out of the main thoroughfare, and began to dodge in and out of wretched streets, all of which seemed ill lighted, and so strongly resembled the one the other, that Tom soon grew bewildered, and sat back thinking, and trying to arrange his thoughts.