“Nothing of the kind. It's a complaint I caught in India; I manage it myself. Bring me up some coffee and rum in about an hour, and mind, don't disturb me on any account till then. What an infernal house!” muttered he, as the man withdrew. “A subaltern called up for morning parade has a better life than this. Nine o'clock only! What can this old ass mean by this pretended activity? Upon whom can it impose? Who will believe that it signifies a rush whether he lay abed till noon or rose by daybreak?” A gentle tap came to the door, but as he made no reply there came after a pause another, a little louder. Sewell still preserved silence, and at last the sound of retiring footsteps along the corridor. “Not if I know it,” muttered he to himself, as he turned round and fell off asleep again. “The coffee, sir, and a despatch; shall I sign the receipt for you?” said the servant, as he reappeared about noon. “Yes; open the window a little, and leave me.” Leaning on his arm, he tore open the envelope and glanced at the signature,--“Lucy.” He then read, “Send down Eccles or Beattie by next train; he is worse.” He read and re-read this at least half-a-dozen times over before he bethought him of the letter that lay still unopened on the bed. He now broke the seal; it was also from his wife, dated the preceding evening, and very brief:-- “Dear Dudley,--Captain Trafford has had a severe fall. Crescy balked at the brook and fell afterwards. Trafford was struck on the head as he rose by Mr. Creagh's horse. It is feared the skull is fractured. You are much blamed for having asked him to ride a horse so much under his weight. All have refused to accept their bets but Kinshela the grocer. I have written to Sir H. Trafford, and I telegraphed to him Dr. Tobin's opinion, which is not favorable. I suppose you will come back at once; if not, telegraph what you advise to be done. Mr. Balfour is here still, but I do not find he is of much use. The veterinary decided Crescy should be shot, as the plate-bone, I think he called it, was fractured; and as he was in great pain, I consented. I hope I have done right.--Yours truly, “Lucy Sewell.” “Here's a go! a horse I refused four hundred and fifty for on Tuesday last! I _am_ a lucky dog, there 's no denying it. I did n't know there was a man in Europe could have made that horse balk his fence. What a rumpus to make about a fellow getting a 'cropper'! My share of the disaster is a deuced deal the worst. I 'll never chance on such a horse again. How am I to find either of these men?” muttered he, as he took up the telegram. He rang the bell violently, and scarcely ceased to pull at it till the servant entered. “Where does Dr. Eccles live?” “Sir Gilbert, sir?” “Ay, if he be Sir Gilbert.” “Merrion Square, sir,” said the man reproachfully, for he thought it rather hard to ignore one of the great celebrities of the land.