“‘Tother’ is dangerously ill,—­has a fit, Hullfish.  He is the author of that note,—­very probably was out of his mind when he wrote it.”

“So?  Pity!  Very sick?  Mayn’t I see him?”

But, as he stepped forward, Thorne stood in the way and effectually intercepted his view.  The constable smiled cunningly, as he drew back, and said,—­

“You’re sure ’ta’n’t nothing else, then?  Nobody’s been getting rapped on the’ head?  Didn’t see no blood, though,—­that’s true.  Well, I don’t like to be sold, that’s a fact,—­but there’s no help for it.  Here’s the young man’s change, Doctor,—­warrant sixty-six, my fees one dollar.”

Thorne carelessly asked if there had been any rows lately,—­if he had heard of any one being hurt,—­if they had been quiet recently along the canal; and being assured that there had been no disturbance of moment,—­“only a little brush between Arch and Long Tobe, down to Gibe’s,”—­he handed the money back to Hullfish.

“Keep that yourself,—­it is yours by rights.  And, look you, mum’s the word in this case, for two reasons:  there’s danger that the poor little fellow there is going to croak before long, and you’d be sorry to think you’d given trouble to a dead man; and what’s more, if the boys get hold of this, there’ll be no end of their chaffing.  There’s not a few of them would like to cook your goose for you,—­I needn’t tell you why; so, if you don’t want them to get the flashest kind of a pull over you, why, you’ll take my advice and keep dark.”

“Nothing like slang, Ned, with the police or the prigging gentry.  It gives them a wonderful respect for your opinion,” said the Doctor, when Hullfish was gone.  But his serious, almost stern look returned immediately, as he continued,—­“Now to solve this mystery, and find out what this wretched boy has been doing.  Come, you and Mac, help me to understand him.”

When we had told the Doctor all we knew of the lad, he pondered long over our recital.

“One thing is certain,” said he:  “the boy is innocent in intention, whatever he has done, and we must stand by him,—­you two particularly; for you are to blame, if he has got himself into any predicament.”

“The boy has done nothing wrong, Thorne,” said Mac, sturdily; “he may have been trapped, or got himself involved somehow, but he never could have committed any crime capable of superinducing such an attack as this.”

The Doctor shook his head.

“You may be right, my friend,—­and I hope you are, for the child’s sake, for it will certainly kill him, if he has.  But I never trust an intense imagination when morbidly excited, and I have read of some strange freaks done by persons under the influence of that infernal hashish.  However, trust me, I shall find out what is the matter before long, and bring the boy round nicely.  He is improving fast now, and all we have to do is to avert another attack.”