His clothes had partly dried upon him during his walk, for he had fetched Dr Rumsey from his house to attend poor Madge, the doctor being very quiet and saying little, Geoffrey thought, after hearing a few explanations. "She seems to have been very unhappy at home," said Geoffrey, "and they quarrelled with her, I think. She must have been half-mad." "And did she really try to drown herself?" said the doctor. "I wouldn't answer the question," replied Geoffrey; "but you, being a doctor, ought to know all--so I tell you, yes. She really did, and-- pray hurry, old fellow: we may be too late." "I am hurrying all I can, Trethick," said the doctor; "but I must get in with some breath left in my body." "Yes, of course; but could I do any good if I ran on first?" "No, not a bit. Bessie Prawle, you say, is with her. Poor lass--poor lass!" "So I say, with all my soul, doctor. But I would not put it abroad what has happened." "These affairs tell their own tale, Trethick," said the doctor. "Yes, yes, of course; but I'd keep it as quiet as I could." "I am no scandal-monger, Trethick," said the doctor, dryly; and they hurried on, Geoffrey waiting outside, and walking up and down with old Prawle while Mr Rumsey went in. At the end of a quarter of an hour he came to the door with a paper. "Prawle," he said, "will you go to my house and give that to my wife?" "I'll take it," said Geoffrey, eagerly. "I'm going home." "You will have to bring something back," said the doctor. "All right: I'll lose no time," he said, cheerily; and he started off, and had to wait while Mrs Rumsey obtained the bottles from the surgery, sending them and a graduated glass for the doctor to mix himself. This done, there was the walk back to Gwennas, and then Geoffrey waited for the doctor, who kept coming out for a stroll in the cool starlight, and then returning. "I've been thinking that I ought to send you for Mrs Mullion, Trethick." "What! Is she in danger?" "No; oh, no, poor lass; she'll be better soon. You are going to wait about, I suppose?" "Oh, yes," said Geoffrey; "you may want me to fetch something more, and I'll wait to walk back with you." The doctor went in, and old Prawle came up from below and touched him on the arm. "Come and sit down here," he said, gruffly. "I've lit a fire below." "Well, I am cold," said Geoffrey; and he followed the old man down into a rough cave in the rock, where he kept old nets, a boat, and various pieces of fishing gear. A bright fire of wreck-wood was burning, and to this, with a shiver, Geoffrey walked up, whereupon the old man took a bottle out of a battered sea-chest, whose outside was splintered by the rocks in coming ashore, and poured him out a little spirit in a chipped and footless glass, frosted by the attrition of the sand in which it had been found. "Smuggled?" said Geoffrey, with a smile. "Drink it, and don't ask questions, my lad."