"How is Van Sneck to-day?" David asked.
"Much better," Bell replied. "I propose to operate to-night. I'm glad to hear that your mother is going to be away a day or two longer."
Heritage appeared to be ready and eager for the work before him. A specially powerful electric light had been rigged up in connection with the study lamp, and an operating table improvised from the kitchen. More than once Bell looked eagerly at Heritage, but the latter stood the scrutiny bravely. Once the operation was successfully through. Heritage would never suffer from hallucinations again.
"I fancy everything is ready now," Bell said, at length. "After dinner to-night and this thing will be done. Then the story will be told—"
"Mr. Reginald Henson to see you, sir."
A servant looked in with this information and a card on a tray. There was a slight commotion outside, the vision of a partially-wrecked bicycle on the path, and a dusty figure in the hall with his head in his hand.
"The gentleman has met with an accident, sir," the parlourmaid said. Henson seemed to be knocked about a great deal. He was riding down the terrace, he said, when suddenly he ran over a dog, and—
"What sort of a dog?" Bell snapped out. "What colour and size?"
Henson was utterly taken aback by the suddenness of the question. He gasped and stammered. He could not have told Bell more plainly that the "accident" was an artistic fake.
"You must stay here till you feel all right again," David suggested.