He walked up to the bed, with Tom Candlish quailing before him, and watching his eyes as some timid animal might when expecting capture or a blow. "I protest--I--" "Hold your tongue, sir," cried Salis sternly. "Dr North is here for your good. Lie still." "I don't know whether my way is right," he added to himself, "but firmness appears to be best with the brute." North seemed to hesitate a few minutes--fighting between routine, the desire to do what was right by the man he believed he had nearly killed, and his intense dislike, even hatred, of the scoundrel for whom he told himself he had been jilted by a wretched, shameless girl. Salis looked on curiously. "Effect of the power of the eye," he said to himself, as he saw North lay his hands upon the injured man's shoulders, and, bending down, gaze into his eyes for a few moments. "By George! Horace North is a big fellow in his profession, and I shall begin to believe in psychology, mesmerism, animal magnetism, and the rest of it, before I've done." He leaned forward to gaze intently at what was going on. "Quells him at once," he said to himself. "Humph! he needn't be quite so rough." This was consequent upon a quick, brusque examination of the patient, which evidently gave Tom Candlish a great deal of pain. "Here, parson!" he yelled; "this man's--" He did not finish, for North's teeth grated together, and he tightened his grasp so firmly that Tom Candlish's head sank back, his battered face elongated, and he lay perfectly still, feeling quite at the mercy of his enemy. North ended his examination by literally thrusting Tom Candlish back upon his pillow in a way which made Salis stare. "He will not hurt, save to do plenty more mischief, Salis. Look here; have you sent for Dr Benson?" "Yes, sir," said the butler wonderingly. "Your master will be all right till he comes. Tell Dr Benson that I only came in upon the emergency. I have nothing to do with the case." "Certainly, sir." "And," said North savagely, and evidently for Tom Candlish to hear, "if your master wishes to commit suicide, put that brandy decanter by his side. He smells of it now like poison. Come along, Salis." "You think him fit to be left?" "Fit to be left!" cried North, whose uneasy conscience was now at rest. "Here: come away." "Why, Horace, old man, this is not like you," cried Salis, as they were going down to the lodge gate. "Like me!" cried North, turning upon him with a searching look, and reading in his eyes his thorough ignorance of the state of affairs. "No, it is not, old boy. I'm ill. My head aches fit to split, and the sight of that man, now my nerves are on the rack, exasperates me." "Well, never mind. It was very good of you to get up and come; but, all the same, I'm glad you did, for it has set my mind at rest as to danger. There's no danger--you are sure?" "Sure? Yes. He has the physique of a bull. Curse him!"