At this moment, some men, whom curiosity had drawn to Henry's forge, came back to say the forge had been blown up, and "the bellows torn limb from jacket, and the room strewed with ashes." The doctor laid a podgy hand on the prisoner's wrist: the touch was light, though the fingers were thick and heavy.

The pulse, which had been very low, was now galloping and bounding frightfully.

"Fetch him a glass of brandy-and-water," said Dr.Amboyne.

(There were still doctors in Hillsborough, though not in London, who would have had him bled on the spot.) "Now, then, a surgeon! Which of you lads operates on the eye, in these works ?" A lanky file-cutter took a step forward.

"I am the one that takes the motes out of their eyes." "Then be good enough to show me his eye." The file-cutter put out a hand with fingers prodigiously long and thin, and deftly parted both Little's eyelids with his finger and thumb, so as to show the whole eye.
"Hum!" said the doctor, and shook his head.
He then patted the sufferer all over, and the result of that examination was satisfactory.