'An Army doctor,' said Merril; 'no, I don't know him. I have heard of him. But how can he help? He has been most of his life in India. I imagine, too, that while he may be very good for amputations and wounds, he would have no experience in such cases as this. Of course I shall be glad to meet him, if you can get him here; but that seems impossible. No trains to Plymouth to-night, and to-morrow is Sunday.' 'May I ring for Sir Thomas?' I asked. 'By all means.' And a minute later not only Sir Thomas, but Lady Bolivick, again entered the room. Evidently the old gentleman was much moved. The thought of having a dying man in his house was like a nightmare to him. 'There's no getting to Plymouth to-night!' he cried. 'Haven't you got a motor-car here?' 'Yes, but no chauffeur. My car hasn't been used for weeks, as my man has been called up. That is why I am obliged to use horses for everything. You see, my coachman can't drive a car.' 'Didn't Springfield and Buller come in a car?' I asked. 'Yes. But if I remember right, it was in a two-seater.' 'Never mind what it is, as long as it will get to Plymouth. Let us go and speak to them.' We found the two men with Lorna Bolivick and Norah Blackwater in the library. They had evidently finished dinner, and Springfield was in the act of pouring a liqueur into his coffee as I entered. 'How is the patient?' he asked almost indifferently. 'Very ill indeed,' I replied. 'Unless something is done for him soon, he will die. Could you,' and I turned to Buller, 'motor to Plymouth, and fetch a doctor I will tell you of? I will give you a note for him.' 'Awfully sorry,' said Buller, 'but I daren't drive. My left leg is so weak that I couldn't work the clutch. Springfield had to run us over here to-day. There's barely enough petrol to take us back, either.' 'I have plenty of petrol,' interposed Sir Thomas. 'I could never get that little bassinette of yours to Plymouth to-night!' broke in Springfield. 'You see, I am still suffering from my little stunt in France, and I am as weak as a rabbit. Besides, Buller's machine isn't fit for such a journey.' 'My car is all right,' cried Sir Thomas. 'But I can't drive, and I haven't a man about the place who can.' 'Do you know the road to Plymouth?' I asked Buller. 'Every inch of it,' he replied. 'Then I'll drive, if you will go with me to show me the way.' I felt miserable at the idea of leaving Edgecumbe, but there seemed no other way out of it. 'Surely you will not leave your friend?' interposed Springfield. 'He may not be as bad as you think, and to-morrow the journey could easily be managed.' 'It is a matter of life and death,' was my reply. 'Merril says that unless something is done for him at once there is no hope for him.' 'What does he think is the matter with him?'