“Poor woman!” he added.  “Upon my soul, I can’t help pitying her.  She knows it, too.  But I expect they always do.”

“Probably.  But you’ve come then to take me to the Loulia?”

“I told her I really must insist.”

“How did you find the patient when he woke?”

“Well, I must say I didn’t like the look of him at all.’”

“No?  Did he seem worse?”

“I really—­I really hardly know.  But I told her he was much worse.”

“Why?”

“Why?  Because I was determined not to go on with the case alone, for fear something should happen.  She denied it.  She declared he was much better—­stronger.  He agreed with her, I must confess; said he felt more himself, and all that.  But—­but she seemed rather putting the words into his mouth, I fancied.  I may have been wrong, but still—­the fact is I’m positively upset by all that’s happened.”

He grasped the rail with both hands.  Evidently he had only held his own against Bella Donna at the expense of his nervous system.

“When we left him, I told her I must get you in.  She was furious, said she wouldn’t have you, that you had always been against her, that you had nearly prevented her marriage with Mr. Armine, that you had maligned her all over London.”

“Did she say any of this before her husband?”

“Not all that.  No.  We were in the first saloon.  But I thought the men would have heard her.  She really lost her head.  She was distinctly hysterical.  It was a most awkward position for me.  But—­but I was resolved to dominate her.”

“And you did?”

“Well—­I—­I stuck to my point.  I said I must and would have another opinion.”

“Another?”

“Yours, of course.  There’s nobody else to be got at immediately.  And after what you—­what we both said and thought this afternoon, I won’t wait till another doctor can be fetched from a distance.”

“Well start at once,” said Isaacson, in a practical voice.

“Yes.”

But the assent was very hesitating, and Hartley made no movement.  Isaacson looked at him with sharply questioning eyes.

“I—­I wish I was out of the case altogether,” said the young man, weakly.  “After this afternoon’s row I seem to have lost all heart.  I never have had such an unpleasant scene with any woman before.  It makes the position extremely difficult.  I don’t know how she will receive us; I really don’t.  She never agreed to my proposition, and I left her looking dreadful.”

“Mrs. Armine hates me.  It’s a pity.  But I’ve got to think of the sick man.  And so have you.  Look here, Doctor Hartley, you and I have got over our little disagreement of this morning, and I hope we can be colleagues.”

“I wish nothing better indeed,” said the young man, earnestly.

“We’ll go back to the Loulia.  We’ll see the patient.  We’ll have our consultation.  And then if you still wish to get out of the case—­”