He turned and quitted the apartment with a slow and dignified step.
As he advanced a little way along the street, he encountered Holmes, still in search of a police officer.
He had been at two or three places where one was always visible; but, as usual when wanted, none were to be found.
'Holmes,' said the doctor, addressing him as if he had known him all his life, 'hurry back to your employer; he wants you particularly.'
Holmes sped off at the word, delighted to be relieved in his search; and Dr. Ephraim Peters went on his way.
He was not mistaken as to the effect of the last attack. His chance shot struck Hiram amidships. The latter continued gazing on vacancy for a moment or two after the doctor had left the room.
'Paralysis—paralysis!' he muttered. 'That is what killed mother!'
Hiram started up, and walked across the room. He pinched his arms and his legs, and both his cheeks. He fancied his left side had less sensibility than his right.
"My brain is overworked, that's a fact. Dr. Joslin has told me so frequently. I must ride every morning before breakfast; I ought not to have neglected it. Paralysis! how did he come to say paralysis?'—and he commenced pinching himself again."
In the midst of these demonstrations, Holmes entered.