"They thinks 'tis mortification, sir."
"Gangrene! What do you think, Bob?"
"It looks like it, sir. I seed a case, sir, when I were off sealin' on the——"
"Was the finger bruised?"
"No, sir; 'twasn't bruised."
"Was it frost-bitten?"
"No, sir; 'twasn't the frost that done it. I made sure o' that. It come from a small cut, sir."
"A simple infection, probably. Did you see a line of demarcation?"
"Sir?"
"It was discoloured?"