The doctor silently and patiently put up with all this. He also put up with all the handings of negus, and watching for glasses, and darting for biscuits, and coquetting, that followed. But a few seconds after the stranger had gone to lead Mrs. Budger to her carriage, he ran swiftly from the room. Every particle of the indignation which he had bottled up within him now bubbled out, in a perspiration of passion.

The stranger had taken Mrs Budger to her carriage and was returning, with Mr Tupman beside him. He said something quietly, and laughed. The little doctor wanted to kill him. He was exulting. He had won.

'Sir!' said the doctor, in a frightening voice, producing a card, and moving into an angle of the passage, 'my name is Slammer, Doctor Slammer, sir - 97^th Regiment - Chatham Barracks - my card, Sir, my card.' He would have said more, but his indignation choked him.

'Ah!' replied the stranger coolly, 'Slammer - thank you very much. So polite. I'm not ill now, Slammer - but when I am I will knock you up.'