“He broke off, seemed to consider; and, turning to Ouvery, he asked:
“‘And if I bore with you yet again?’
“‘Try me, Doctor! Put me to the proof; Only do not ...’
“‘Peace, fool! Ambrose, begone!’ (the young man instantly withdrew) ‘Ouvery, on the morrow you shall sail for England—but of that anon. Get you gone, and bring our new-come comrades to the slave Davies, charging him to see to it, that not a jot of care or tendance be omitted unto them. And tell him, moreover, that if the South Bulwark be not finished by the third day following, he shall pass through that door which I with all my knowledge and wit never have been able to unlock!’
“But Ouvery stood gazing on him after a vacant manner; and, rising from his chair in fury, the Doctor cried:
“‘Clod of earth, lacking understanding!—ah! take your cow’s eyes from me! Ambrose!’
“He touched the knob again, and, when the young man returned, ‘Expound to this clodpole,’ said the Doctor, ‘my saying, the door that hath no key!’
“Thereupon Ambrose turned to Ouvery; and, like one reciting a task, he said:
“‘No man is able to open it, but the dead pass through there. ’Tis the door of fate.’
“‘Good words, Ambrose,’ said the Doctor. ‘No man, indeed, is able to open that door. I myself have essayed, even to weariness, but I found no key.