“Go on,” said the doctor.
“Well, he next fails, after increasing the connection, and another takes the place, and another after him.”
“Yes.”
“Well, the last one has some connection to start with, adds his own efforts, and goes on and prospers, like a son succeeding his father.”
“You mean to say then that you succeed to something in Wheal Carnac.”
“I say that we succeed to all the work the others have done. There is the shaft sunk and the buildings ready, and with our machinery fixed, all that was needed was that we should go to work with plenty of enterprise.”
“But suppose it don’t succeed—suppose you can’t bring your patient back to life?”
“My papa brought a man back—”
“Be quiet, Bobby, when your papa’s talking,” cried Mrs Rumsey, who had to go out then to use the family handkerchief upon the noses of the hookah-smoking twins.
“But I shall bring it back to life,” said Geoffrey, firmly. “As you would say, the organs are all sound, and all it wanted was a stimulus to send the life-blood throbbing through the patient’s veins.”