"Gentlemen," the old man went on, tapping the breast of his victim with the handle of his scalpel, "I shall make an incision——"
Sanders came from his place of concealment, and walked steadily towards the extemporised operating-table.
"Professor," he said gently, and the madman looked at him with a puzzled frown.
"You are interrupting the clinic," he said testily; "I am demonstrating——"
"I know, sir."
Sanders took his arm, and Sir George Carsley, a great scientist, consulting surgeon to St. Mark's Hospital, London, and the author of many books on tropical diseases, went with him like a child.
CHAPTER XII.
THE LONELY ONE.
Mr. Commissioner Sanders had lived so long with native people that he had absorbed not a little of their simplicity. More than this, he had acquired the uncanny power of knowing things which he would not and could not have known unless he were gifted with the prescience which is every aboriginal's birthright.