"Edward has told me what you propose to do," she exclaimed, "and I am willing--I am abundantly willing that he should run this great risk." Her words almost surprised me. I looked from her to her father-in-law, who now held out his hand. "I have often heard of you, Dr. Halifax," he said, with a courteous, old-fashioned gesture. "I think you know some special friends of mine. I may say that I place absolute confidence in your skill, and am willing to put my son's life in your hands." I looked attentively from one face to the other. "I am glad you both give your consent," I replied. "I should not perform the operation, which I trust will relieve Mr. Mainwaring, without your mutual sanction. I must tell you plainly, however, that although I am willing to do it, it is accompanied by grave risk, and I do not believe another doctor in London would attempt it." "You mean that Edward may die?" said the wife in a low voice. I looked her full in the eyes. "There is a possibility," I said. "But I do not think he will," she said, a wonderful light leaping into her face. "I am a woman--a woman does not always reason, but she strongly believes in instincts--my instinct tells me that you will save my husband, and in short give him back to me as he was before. At the worst, even at the worst----" here she turned ghastly pale, "he would _know_ me in another world. I could endure to be parted with him on those conditions. I cannot--I cannot endure the present state of things." Her composure suddenly gave way, she sobbed aloud. "There is nothing more to be said," I remarked, after a brief pause. "I have all your consents, and have made full arrangements to perform the operation to-morrow morning. A clever surgeon, whom I know well, will assist me, and an excellent trained nurse will arrive at an early hour to get the patient ready for our visit. By the way, where is your husband, Mrs. Mainwaring?" She had dried her eyes by this time. "He is in the house," she said, "but he does not wish to see you again until the moment when you can give him relief." I said a few more words, and soon afterwards took my leave. Early the next morning, accompanied by a surgeon and an anæsthetist on whose assistance I could depend, I arrived at Queen Anne's Street. We were shown at once to the room where my patient waited for me. He was sitting in a chair near the window. The nurse was standing in the background, having made all necessary preparations. "Here you are," he said, rising and greeting me with a cheerful smile, "and here am I, and there is a Providence over us. Now, the sooner you put things right the better." His courage delighted me. I was also much relieved to find that neither his wife nor father was present. "With the help of God, I believe I shall put you right," I said, in a tone of assurance, which I absolutely felt. An hour and a half later I went into the sitting-room, where Mainwaring's father and wife were anxiously waiting for my verdict.