his unintelligent, hairy face. It was strange that he had never seen this before.
"You won't object, of course, if we ask you to consult another doctor?" he continued.
At this the little man became openly incensed.
"Ah!" he cried. "You have not confidence in me? You object to my treatment? You wish me to give up the case?"
"Not at all," Terence replied, "but in serious illness of this kind——"
Rodriguez shrugged his shoulders.
"It is not serious, I assure you. You are over-anxious. The young lady is not seriously ill, and I am a doctor. The lady of course is frightened," he sneered. "I understand that perfectly."
"The name and address of the doctor is?" Terence continued.
"There is no other doctor," Rodriguez replied sullenly. "Every one has confidence in me. Look! I will show you."
He took out a packet of old letters and began turning them over as if in search of one that would confute Terence's suspicions. As he searched, he began to tell a story about an English lord who had trusted him—a great English lord, whose name he had, unfortunately, forgotten.
"There is no other doctor in the place," he concluded, still turning over the letters.
"Never mind," said Terence shortly. "I will make enquiries for myself." Rodriguez put the letters back in his pocket
"Very well," he remarked. "I have no objection."
He lifted his eyebrows, shrugged his shoulders, as if to repeat that they took the illness much too seriously and that there was no other doctor, and slipped out, leaving behind him an impression that he was conscious that he was distrusted, and that his malice was aroused.
After this Terence could no longer stay downstairs. He went up, knocked at Rachel's door, and asked Helen whether he might see her for a few minutes. He had not seen her yesterday. She made no objection, and went and sat at a table in the window.
Terence sat down by the bedside. Rachel's face was