“Yes; he sent for me by a special messenger to come to him, and when I went, which, under the circumstances, you may well guess, I did with all the celerity possible, I found it was to consult me about a flesh wound in his arm, which was showing some angry symptoms.” “Indeed.” “Yes, it was so. When I was introduced to him I found him lying on a couch, and looking pale and unwell. In the most respectful manner, he asked me to be seated, and when I had taken a chair, he added,—” “‘Mr. Chillingworth, I have sent for you in consequence of a slight accident which has happened to my arm. I was incautiously loading some fire-arms, and discharged a pistol so close to me that the bullet inflicted a wound on my arm.’” “‘If you will allow me,’ said I, ‘to see the wound, I will give you my opinion.’” “He then showed me a jagged wound, which had evidently been caused by the passage of a bullet, which, had it gone a little deeper, must have inflicted serious injury. As it was, the wound was but trifling.” “He had evidently been attempting to dress it himself, but finding some considerable inflammation, he very likely got a little alarmed.” “You dressed the wound?” “I did.” “And what do you think of Sir Francis Varney, now that you have had so capital an opportunity,” said Henry, “of a close examination of him?” “Why, there is certainly something odd about him which I cannot well define, but, take him altogether, he can be a very gentlemanly man indeed.” “So he can.” “His manners are easy and polished; he has evidently mixed in good society, and I never, in all my life, heard such a sweet, soft, winning voice.” “That is strictly him. You noticed, I presume, his great likeness to the portrait on the panel?” “I did. At some moments, and viewing his face in some particular lights, it showed much more strongly than at others. My impression was that he could, when he liked, look much more like the portrait on the panel than when he allowed his face to assume its ordinary appearance.” “Probably such an impression would be produced upon your mind,” said Charles, “by some accidental expression of the countenance which even he was not aware of, and which often occurs in families.” “It may be so.” “Of course you did not hint, sir, at what has passed here with regard to him?” said Henry. “I did not. Being, you see, called in professionally, I had no right to take advantage of that circumstance to make any remarks to him about his private affairs.” “Certainly not.” “It was all one to me whether he was a vampyre or not, professionally, and however deeply I might feel, personally, interested in the matter, I said nothing to him about it, because, you see, if I had, he would have had a fair opportunity of saying at once, ‘Pray, sir, what is that to you?’ and I should have been at a loss what to reply.”