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It was the evening of the next day. Frank Stanhope lay on a couch in a darkened room, a black bandage across his eyes. Erie Landon sat beside him, holding his hand. The pungent odor of ether hung in the air. Out in the dining room old Doctor Allworth, from Bridgetown, was discussing with the specialist things known only to those men of science., "Well now, I can't see why a dozen wouldn't keep as well as three," returned the keeper, as he pulled the punt high on shore., "Perhaps so," returned the old gentleman dryly, "but, you see, I happen to have heard an opinion of friend Ringdo's gentle nature from a certain learned pedagogue, whose wounds I dressed recently. So, my dear young lady, if you will be good enough to keep tight hold of him for a moment, I'll follow my renowned friend into the parlor and learn how Frank is coming along." And suiting the action to the words he edged slowly around the table and, backing into the parlor, closed the door..