There was never any talk of a recovery, and no time was lost in getting the man's deposition.

He gave but the one account of it: that he had committed suicide because he was sick of seeing so many Englishmen.

The doctor vowed it was impossible, the nature and direction of the wound forbidding it.

Goguelat replied that he was more ingenious than the other thought for, and had propped up the weapon in the ground and fallen on the point--'just like Nebuchadnezzar,' he added, winking to the assistants.

The doctor, who was a little, spruce, ruddy man of an impatient temper, pished and pshawed and swore over his patient.
'Nothing to be made of him!' he cried.