“If they try to pull you out o’ bed,” said Mr. Brown, “scream as though you’re being killed. _H’sh_! Here they are.” Voices sounded below; Miss Miller and the doctor had met at the door with Mr. Wragg, and a violent outburst on that gentleman’s part died away as he saw that the intruders had disappeared. He was still grumbling when Mr. Harris, putting his head over the balusters, asked him to make a little less noise. Mr. Wragg came upstairs in three bounds, and his mien was so terrible that Messrs. Harris and Brown huddled together for protection. Then his gaze fell on the bed and he strove in vain for speech. “We done it for the best,” faltered Mr. Harris. Mr. Wragg made a gurgling noise in his throat, and, as the doctor entered the room, pointed with a trembling finger at the bed. The other two gentlemen edged toward the door. “Take him away; take him away at once,” vociferated Mr. Wragg. The doctor motioned him to silence, and Joe Harris and Mr. Brown held their breaths nervously as he made an examination. For ten minutes he prodded and puzzled over the insensible form in the bed; then he turned to the couple at the door. “How did it happen?” he inquired. Mr. Harris told him. He also added that he thought it was best to put him to bed at once before he came round. “Quite right,” said the doctor, nodding. “It’s a very serious case.” “Well, I can’t ’ave him ’ere,” broke in Mr. Wragg. “It won’t be for long,” said the doctor, shaking his head. “I can’t ’ave him ’ere at all, and, what’s more, I won’t. Let him go to his own bed,” said Mr. Wragg, quivering with excitement. “He is not to be moved,” said the doctor, decidedly. “If he comes to his senses and gets out of bed you must coax him back again.” “_Coax_?” stuttered Mr. Wragg. “_Coax?_ What’s he got to do with me? This house isn’t a ’orsepittle. Put his clothes on and take ’im away.” “Do nothing of the kind,” was the stern reply. “In fact, his clothes had better be taken out of the room, in case he comes round and tries to dress.” Mr. Harris skipped across to the clothes and tucked them gleefully under his arm; Mr. Brown secured the boots. “When he will come out of this stupor I can’t say,” continued the doctor. “Keep him perfectly quiet and don’t let him see a soul.” “Look ’ere—” began Mr. Wragg, in a broken voice. “As to diet—water,” said the doctor, looking round. “Water?” said Miss Miller, who had come quietly into the room. “Water,” repeated the doctor; “as much as he likes to take, of course. Let me see: to-day is Tuesday. I’ll look in on Friday, or Saturday at latest; but till then he must have nothing but clear cold water.” Mr. Harris shot a horrified glance at the bed, which happened just then to creak. “But s’pose he asks for food, sir?” he said, respectfully.