"You think there is fresh danger?" "No, my child, the danger has always been great enough. They want me to go and see a man at the mine--one Sturgess." Dinah started and shuddered. The Doctor noticed it, and thought of her father's words. "You would rather I did not go." "I don't like you leaving me, but if it is urgent--" "They fear the man is dying." "As we forgive them that trespass against us," rose to Dinah's brain. "Yes, Doctor, you must go," she said softly; and he nodded his head. "Good girl," he said, and he left her.--"Ah, Janet, my child, why were you not like that? My training, I suppose.--Now, sir, I am ready." Robson started from his seat in the porch, and led the way toward the mine, relating all he knew of the case to the Doctor as they went. "He was alone in the mine one morning, sir, and had a nasty fall. He injured his shoulder a good deal, and refused to have any medical advice till it had all gone bad. He said the doctors were fools, and that a bandage and cold water were all that was necessary." "And found out that some one was a bigger fool than the doctors, eh?" said the old man drily. "Yes, sir, I suppose so," replied the clerk, smiling. "This way, please." He led the Doctor down to the little house apportioned to the foreman; and as they approached it, Jessop and Wrigley came out, the former, who looked haggard and careworn, seeming disposed to hurry away, but he mastered his shrinking and stood firm. "How do?" said the Doctor, with a short nod. "Janet quite well?" "Yes, Doctor," cried Jessop eagerly, "and--" "Stand aside, please," said the old man testily. "I want to talk to this gentleman. Are you Mr Wrigley?" "I am, and I am very grateful to you for coming, sir. I am very anxious about our man." "Where is he?" "This way, please." The Doctor followed into a bedroom where the man lay, hollow of cheek and half delirious, while one of the miners' wives was playing the part of nurse. "Mr Jessop Reed, I can dispense with your company, sir. I want to be alone. You can go too, my good woman, and you, Mr What's your name? Robson. No, you stay, Mr Wrigley. I may want to ask some questions." Jessop went out scowling. "A brute!" muttered the Doctor. "Knows his brother is, perhaps, on his deathbed, and has never sent to ask how he is." The next minute he was examining the patient, who lay perfectly still, while a hideous wound in the shoulder, which was evidently of long standing, was bared. "Curious kind of hurt!" said the Doctor. "Here's something within which irritates it." "Piece of rock splinter, perhaps," suggested Wrigley. "Very likely; but he will never get well with that in his flesh.--Don't groan, man. It's to do you good. Humph, look here. I thought it was a singular injury." He held out a piece of green metal with some fine-looking letters upon it, and Wrigley examined them. "Eley!" he said. "Why, it is a piece of a brass cartridge."