With quick movement he went over to Stafford's writing-table, and threw open the cover of the blotter.
In a flash Stafford was beside him, and laid a hand upon the blotter, saying with a smile, of the kind which had so far done its work—
"No, no, my friend, I will not take a tonic. It's only a good sleep I want; and I'll get that to-night. But I give my word, if I'm not all right to-morrow, if I don't sleep, I'll send to you and take your tonic gladly."
"You promise?"
"I promise, my dear Mappin."
The great man beamed again: and he really was solicitous for his new-found friend.
"Very well, very well—Stafford," he replied. "It shall be as you say. Good-bye, or, rather, au revoir!"
"A la bonne heure!" was the hearty response, as the door opened for the great surgeon's exit.
When the door was shut again, and Stafford was alone, he staggered over to the writing-desk. Opening the blotter, he took something up carefully and looked at it with a sardonic smile.
"You did your work quite well," he said, reflectively.