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"This has been done," said I, examining the wound, "by a very

heavy and sharp instrument."

"A thing like a cleaver," said he.

"An accident, I presume?"

"By no means."

"What! a murderous attack?"

"Very murderous indeed."

"You horrify me."

I sponged the wound, cleaned it, dressed it, and finally covered

it over with cotton wadding and carbolised bandages. He lay back

without wincing, though he bit his lip from time to time.

"How is that?" I asked when I had finished.

"Capital! Between your brandy and your bandage, I feel a new man.

I was very weak, but I have had a good deal to go through."

"Perhaps you had better not speak of the matter. It is evidently

trying to your nerves."