vicarage was a lonely, isolated dwelling. Joe
Dowsett and the carter, with a little assistance
from Mr. Levincourt, carried the
stranger into the house. The women hurried
to take from an old oaken press, blankets
and coverlets for the spare bed. A fire was
lighted in the guest's chamber—a room
on the ground-floor, looking towards the
garden. For that night at least, the injured
man must remain at the vicarage.

Mr. Levincourt was very uneasy, and
asked Joe over and over again if he thought
it was serious? To which queries Joe
invariabIy replied that it might be or it
mightn't, but that for his part he didn't
think 't wouldn't be much: an oracular
utterance in which his master seemed to
find some comfort. Veronica sat at the
window, straining eye and ear to catch the
first signal of the doctor's coming.

"He's quite old, this poor man, isn't he,
papa?" said she, with her face pressed
against the glass.

"Old? No. What do you call 'quite
old?' It is difficult to judge under the
circumstances, but I should say he can't
be more than fifty."

"Ah! well—that's what I meant. Here
is Mr. Plew at last! I hear his step on
the gravel, although I can't see him yet."

Mr. Plew's opinion was not very reassuring.
If the patient were not better by
to-morrow, he should fear that he could not
safely be moved for a day or two. Meanwhile
Mr. Plew would like Dr. Gunnery of
Danecester to be called in, in consultation.

When Dr. Gunnery arrived on the
following afternoon, he shook his head very
gravely, and said that he had no hope of
the patient being able to leave his bed for
some weeks. Even if—and here Dr.
Gunnery lowered his voice, and reversed the
movement of his head: nodding it up and
down instead of shaking it from side to
side—even if he pulled through at all!

CHAPTER VI. SUSPENSE.

THE vicar's first thought on hearing Dr.
Gunnery's opinion, was that it behoved him
(the vicar) to communicate with the family
of the stranger whom Fate had thrown
—literally thrown—into the midst of the
quiet household at the vicarage. As it
was, they could hardly have known less
about him, had he dropped among them
from the moon, instead of from the back
of a startled horse.

But for many hours the injured man was
incapable of communicating with his host.
Fever set in. He became delirious at
intervals. And on no account must he be
disturbed or annoyed by questions. Dr.
Gunnery confirmed Mr. Plew's first statement,
that no irreparable injury had been
done to the stranger by his fall.

"But," said he, " he is a bad subject.
If we had a young constitution, or even a
sound constitution for his years, to deal
with, the whole affair would be a mere
trifle. But in this case it is very different."

"Very different, indeed," assented Mr.
Plew.

"No stamina," continued the Danecester
physician. " The whole machine is in a
worn-out condition—constitution gone to
the deuce."

"To the—- ahem! quite so!" assented
Mr. Plew, again.

"Then, Dr. Gunnery," said Mr. Levin-
court, nervously, "do you mean to say that
he is in danger? Dear me, this is dreadful!
Really dreadful!"

But to so direct a question Dr. Gunnery
could, or would, give no direct reply. He
merely repeated that in his opinion Mr.
Levincourt ought to lose no time in
communicating with the sick man's family.
And then, saying that he would return the
day after to-morrow, and that meanwhile
the patient could not possibly be in better
hands than those of Mr. Plew, the great
Danecester doctor drove away.

Beyond the facts that had come under
his own eyes, the vicar knew but two
circumstances regarding his involuntary guest.
The first circumstance was, that he had
been staying at the Crown, in Shipley
Magna; the second was, that Lord George
Segrave was said to be a friend of his.

Mr. Levincourt despatched a note to
Lord George, and ordered Joe Dowsett (to
whom the note was entrusted), to ride on
from Hammick Lodge to Shipley Magna,
and tell the people at the Crown what had
happened.

From Hammick Lodge, Joe Dowsett
brought back a very polite note.

It appeared that the acquaintance
between Lord George Segrave and the
stranger was of the slightest possible kind.
They had met in Rome one season, and
had hunted side by side on the Campagna.
Lord George knew nothing whatever of
the gentleman's family. His name was
Gale, Sir John Gale. Lord George was
deeply distressed that the vicar of Shipley
and his family should be so seriously
inconvenienced by this accident. At the
same time he could hardly regret, on Sir
John Gale's account, that the latter should