"What then?"
"Sir Robert Ottley sent one of them to you—with a message—last night. He returned this morning with three ribs broken. He is lying in the hospital tent now—in a high fever."
"A tall, thin man—the eyes set far apart in the skull?" I asked.
Dr. Belleville shook his head. "No. Short, thick-set, snub-featured, but a giant in strength."
"How did he explain his accident?"
"That unwittingly he angered you."
"The man is a liar," I declared indignantly. "I had a set-to with a skulking rogue last night. That is true enough. But the fellow I encountered and threw was taller than myself."
The Doctor shrugged his shoulders. "It was a dark night, I believe." Then a minute later—"Ottley is much annoyed. This Meeraschi was an excellent subject. Ottley was experimenting with him."
"How?"
"Hypnotically."