“Now,” he said, “sit down on that, the two of you in a row, till I try if I can’t talk sense into you.” “Why,” said Mr. Sanders sulkily, “why should we sit there and be talked to by you?” “There are two reasons why you should,” said Dr. O’Grady. “The first is because I want to talk to you, and I can do that much more conveniently if you’re seated in a row in front of me than if you’re scattered about all over the room. Does that satisfy you, or must I give you the second reason?” “I won’t be talked to by you,” said Mr. Dick. “You’re in league with the infernal scoundrels who have locked us up here.” “My good man----” said Mr. Sanders. This pacific form of address produced no more effect on Dr. O’Grady than Mr. Dick’s blunt denunciation did. Mr. Sanders was given no time to finish his remark. “The second reason why you should is because it will be the worse for you if you don’t.” “Do you mean to threaten us with violence?” said Mr. Dick. “Patsy,” said Dr. O’Grady, “take off your coat, roll up your sleeve and show your arm. I may mention, gentlemen, that Patsy Devlin was a blacksmith by trade before he took to being a captive. He’s used to hammering.” Mr. Dick and Mr. Sanders watched Patsy Devlin bare his arm, but they made no move towards the bed. “Patsy,” said Dr. O’Grady, “roll up your other sleeve. If you want to fight, gentlemen, I’d recommend you to take off your coats.” “I can’t fight,” said Mr. Sanders, “on account of my heart. It’s weak, and the doctor expressly forbade any form of excitement or violent exercise. If it wasn’t for that----” He sat down on a corner of the bed. “I haven’t fought for years,” said Mr. Dick with spirit; “but I’m not going to be bullied by a damned Irish doctor. Come on.” The speech was worthy of a man who had once at least felt the blood of the ancient Bersekers coursing through his veins. It was followed by prompt action. He took off his coat. Patsy Devlin spat on his hands and then rubbed them together. “Mr. Dick,” said Dr. O’Grady, “I don’t want to have you smashed up, partly because from what you’ve told us about your wife I expect she’d be sorry, and partly because it’d be a nuisance to me to have to fit you together again. If you don’t sit down on that bed, I’ll ring the bell for the Emperor and get him to take away your clothes. You didn’t like going about in nothing but your shirt yesterday evening. Just recollect that, and be careful.” Mr. Dick thought better of his resolution. It may have been the business-like way in which Patsy spat on his hands which daunted him, or it may have been Dr. O’Grady’s second and very horrible threat. He sat down sulkily beside Mr. Sanders.