Dr. Thomas Lynch still drove a fast horse through the streets, and was hardly less popular than when he first came into the town; hardly less, for he had actually begun to lose ground. He had purchased popularity, and he was not always willing to pay the price. It cost too much to keep up the farce of pandering to old women’s whims. As he became more successful, he bowed less low to the magnates of Poppleton, took less pains to conciliate men and women who could do nothing but sound his praise. But the doctor was still great, though it was a fact that he had begun to decline. Eugene Hungerford’s birthday came. A gentleman arrived at Poppleton by the afternoon train. He went directly to the office of Dr. Lynch, who received him with a patronizing smile, and conducted him to the room in the rear. “You have come at exactly the right time,” said the doctor, rubbing his hands, as if in anticipation of some delightful event. “I came when you told me,” replied the stranger, somewhat roughly, for the doctor’s greeting was rather too patronizing to be entirely satisfactory. “I have been afraid, twenty times to-day, that I should not see you.” “But you knew I arrived from Italy a month ago.” “I did; but I feared you might take a drop too much, or that some accident might prevent you.” “You need not insult me.” “I had no intention of insulting you.” “What do you mean by a drop too much, then?” “Nothing, nothing! You know you used to imbibe a little too freely.” “But I told you in one of my letters that I had drank nothing stronger than red wine for five years.” “So much the better.” “When will this business be finished?” demanded the stranger, with no little impatience. “This evening.” “I am disgusted with it.” “You have no right to be disgusted with it. I have paid you three thousand dollars a year for your services, which has supported you like a prince in Italy.” “I have no fault to find with the pay; that is liberal, but it would not buy me into such a mean transaction a second time.” “You must not flinch now, at the last moment.” “I shall not flinch; I have sold myself to the devil, and I am willing to pay the price.” “But you must do your part handsomely. You must ride the high horse. You must refuse all compromise. You must claim your own without the shadow of relenting.” “This was not nominated in the bond. I will do my part with as little offence as possible.” “You must be firm and resolute,” persisted the doctor. “I will be firm and resolute enough to accomplish the purpose--no more.” “I have been waiting five years for this night. I have longed for this hour as they that suffer wait for the morning. My time has come. I have been insulted, outraged in my feelings, cast out like an unclean beast----” “As you are!” interposed the stranger. “What!” “I know you, if they don’t.” “This is hardly proper in you.” “I will pay the bond, but I have the privilege of despising you.”