The cab drew up at the great blank-looking door of the Doctor's house, and Clive leaped out, paid the man, and hurried up the broad steps in the cold, grey morning. How many times, full of expectation and delight, he had hurried to that door bearing presents or bouquets; and now he was there once more--to hear what news of the bright, handsome girl whom he had made his idol from a boy? His hand was upon the heavy knocker, but it dropped to his side, and he rang the night-bell, and then stood listening to the distant wheels of the cab in which he had come. "Who is it?" came in a husky whisper from the mouth of the speaking-tube, and he answered back-- "I: Clive Reed." "Down directly." Five minutes later the door was opened by the Doctor himself, and quite at home there, Clive Reed sprang in to face his old friend standing in dressing-gown and slippers. "How is she?" he cried, in a low excited whisper. "How is she?" repeated the Doctor, as he closed the door. "Here, come this way." He took a chamber candlestick from where he had set it down on the hall table, and led on into his consulting-room, with its walls adorned with grim-looking engravings of medical magnates, and its table with books and inkstand, two stethoscopes standing upright on the chimneypiece like a pair of very ancient attenuated vases. "You came up at once, then?" said the Doctor grimly. "Of course. I caught the mail; but don't keep me--in suspense," Clive was about to say, but he checked himself, for positions had altered now, and he had no right to be in suspense, so he used the word "waiting." "Waiting!" said the Doctor. "What do you mean?" "Your telegram--about Janet. Is she very bad?" "Confound Janet for a weak-minded idiot!" cried the Doctor testily. "Nothing of the kind. I wired to you to come up about this cursed mine." "Oh!" ejaculated Clive, with a feeling of relief. "Your telegram explained nothing, and I thought the poor girl was ill." "Ill! No: I wish she were. Be a lesson to her--a hussy. Now, then, what am I to do? Nice business this, sir. Here, on the strength of your representations, I put a life's savings in that cursed mine, and they're pretty well all swept away." Clive looked at him, as if doubting his old friend's sanity. "Don't stand staring at me like a confounded stock-fish, sir. You've got me into this scrape, now tell me how to get out of it. Hang it all, Clive, I've been like a second father to you, and the least you could have done would have been to give me fair warning, so that I might have--have--hedged--yes, that's the word my lovely son-in-law would have used. Now, then, before it is too late. I daresay I could get them back from him, as I only saw him to-night. Can you help me to make a better price?" Clive seated himself, for he was weary, and the Doctor, after setting down his candlestick, was walking up and down the room as he talked.