If a patient's eyes were mixed on Dr.West's, Dr.West's were invariably fixed upon something else.

A clever man in his profession, holding an Edinburgh degree, and practising as a general practitioner.

He was brother to the present Mrs.Verner; consequently, uncle to the two young Massingbirds.
"Has anybody got a match ?" he asked.
One of the Verner's Pride servants had a whole boxful, and two or three were lighted at a time, and held so that the doctor could see the drowned face better than he could in the uncertain moonlight.

It was a strange scene.

The lonely, weird character of the place; the dark trees scattered about; the dull pond with its bending willows; the swaying, murmuring crowd collected round the doctor and what he was bending over; the bright flickering flame of the match-light; with the pale moon overhead, getting higher and higher as the night went on, and struggling her way through passing clouds.
"How did it happen ?" asked Dr.West.
Before any answer could be given, a man came tearing up at the top of his speed; several men, indeed, it may be said.