“I can’t, my good man,” I answered, “Sir John Bell is his doctor.”

“I have been to Sir John’s, sir, but he has gone away for two days to attend a patient in the country, and the Major told me to come for you.”

Then I hesitated no longer.  As we hurried to the house, which was close at hand, the footman told me that the Major on reaching home took a cup of tea and sent for a cab to take him to Sir John Bell.  As he was in the act of getting into the cab, suddenly he fell backwards and was picked up panting for breath, and carried into the dining-room.  By this time we had reached the house, of which the door was opened as we approached it by Mrs. Selby herself, who seemed in great distress.

“Don’t talk now, but take me to your husband,” I said, and was led into the dining-room, where the unfortunate man lay groaning on the sofa.

“Glad you’ve come,” he gasped.  “I believe that fool, Bell, has done for me.”

Asking those present in the room, a brother and a grown-up son of the patient, to stand back, I made a rapid examination; then I wrote a prescription and sent it round to the chemist—­it contained ammonia, I remember—­and ordered hot fomentations to be placed upon the leg.  While these matters were being attended to I went with the relations into another room.

“What is the matter with him, doctor?” asked Mrs. Selby.

“It is, I think, a case of what is called blood-clot, which has formed in the veins of the leg,” I answered.  “Part of this clot has been detached by exertion, or possibly by rubbing, and, travelling upwards, has become impacted in one of the pulmonary arteries.”

“Is it serious?” asked the poor wife.

“Of course we must hope for the best,” I said; “but it is my duty to tell you that I do not myself think Major Selby will recover; how long he will last depends upon the size of the clot which has got into the artery.”

“Oh, this is ridiculous,” broke in Mr. Selby.  “My brother has been under the care of Sir John Bell, the ablest doctor in Dunchester, who told him several times that he was suffering from nothing but rheumatism, and now this gentleman starts a totally different theory, which, if it were true, would prove Sir John to be a most careless and incompetent person.”

“I am very sorry,” I answered; “I can only hope that Sir John is right and I am wrong.  So that there may be no subsequent doubt as to what I have said, with your leave I will write down my diagnosis and give it to you.”

When this was done I returned to the patient, and Mr. Selby, taking my diagnosis, telegraphed the substance of it to Sir John Bell for his opinion.  In due course the answer arrived from Sir John, regretting that there was no train by which he could reach Dunchester that night, giving the name of another doctor who was to be called in, and adding, incautiously enough, “Dr. Therne’s diagnosis is purely theoretical and such as might be expected from an inexperienced man.”