I think we should send for Dr. Winchester.”

“Do so at once, please!” said Miss Trelawny; and we went back to the
room. For a while Miss Trelawny stood looking at her father, with her brows
wrinkled. Then, turning to me, as though her mind were made up, she
said:

“Don’t you think we should have a consultation on Father? Of course I
have every confidence in Doctor Winchester; he seems an immensely
clever young man. But he is a young man; and there must be men who
have devoted themselves to this branch of science. Such a man would
have more knowledge and more experience; and his knowledge and
experience might help to throw light on poor Father’s case. As it is,
Doctor Winchester seems to be quite in the dark. Oh! I don’t know what
to do. It is all so terrible!”  Here she broke down a little and cried;
and I tried to comfort her. Doctor Winchester arrived quickly. His first thought was for his
patient; but when he found him without further harm, he visited Nurse
Kennedy. When he saw her, a hopeful look came into his eyes. Taking a
towel, he dipped a corner of it in cold water and flicked on the face. The skin coloured, and she stirred slightly. He said to the new
nurse—Sister Doris he called her:

“She is all right. She will wake in a few hours at latest. She may be
dizzy and distraught at first, or perhaps hysterical. If so, you know
how to treat her.”

“Yes, sir!” answered Sister Doris demurely; and we went back to Mr.
Trelawny’s room. As soon as we had entered, Mrs. Grant and the Nurse
went out so that only Doctor Winchester, Miss Trelawny, and myself
remained in the room. When the door had been closed Doctor Winchester
asked me as to what had occurred. I told him fully, giving exactly
every detail so far as I could remember. Throughout my narrative,
which did not take long, however, he kept asking me questions as to who
had been present and the order in which each one had come into the
room. He asked other things, but nothing of any importance; these were
all that took my attention, or remained in my memory. When our
conversation was finished, he said in a very decided way indeed, to
Miss Trelawny:

“I think, Miss Trelawny, that we had better have a consultation on this
case.”  She answered at once, seemingly a little to his surprise:

“I am glad you have mentioned it. I quite agree. Who would you
suggest?”

“Have you any choice yourself?” he asked. “Any one to whom your Father
is known? Has he ever consulted any one?”

“Not to my knowledge. But I hope you will choose whoever you think
would be best. My dear Father should have all the help that can be
had; and I shall be deeply obliged by your choosing. Who is the best
man in London—anywhere else—in such a case?”

“There are several good men; but they are scattered all over the world. Somehow, the brain specialist is born, not made; though a lot of hard
work goes to the completing of him and fitting him for his work. He
comes from no country. The most daring investigator up to the present
is Chiuni, the Japanese; but he is rather a surgical experimentalist
than a practitioner. Then there is Zammerfest of Uppsala, and Fenelon
of the University of Paris, and Morfessi of Naples. These, of course,
are in addition to our own men, Morrison of Aberdeen and Richardson of
Birmingham. But before them all I would put Frere of King’s College. Of all that I have named he best unites theory and practice. He has no
hobbies—that have been discovered at all events; and his experience is
immense. It is the regret of all of us who admire him that the nerve
so firm and the hand so dexterous must yield to time. For my own part
I would rather have Frere than any one living.”

“Then,” said Miss Trelawny decisively, “let us have Doctor Frere—by
the way, is he ‘Doctor’ or ‘Mister’?—as early as we can get him in the
morning!”

A weight seemed removed from him, and he spoke with greater ease and
geniality than he had yet shown:

“He is Sir James Frere. I shall go to him myself as early as it is
possible to see him, and shall ask him to come here at once.”  Then
turning to me he said:

“You had better let me dress your hand.”

“It is nothing,” I said. “Nevertheless it should be seen to. A scratch from any animal might
turn out dangerous; there is nothing like being safe.”  I submitted;
forthwith he began to dress my hand. He examined with a
magnifying-glass the several parallel wounds, and compared them with
the slip of blotting-paper, marked with Silvio’s claws, which he took
from his pocket-book. He put back the paper, simply remarking:

“It’s a pity that Silvio slips in—and out—just when he shouldn’t.”

The morning wore slowly on. By ten o’clock Nurse Kennedy had so far
recovered that she was able to sit up and talk intelligibly. But she
was still hazy in her thoughts; and could not remember anything that
had happened on the previous night, after her taking her place by the
sick-bed. As yet she seemed neither to know nor care what had happened. It was nearly eleven o’clock when Doctor Winchester returned with Sir
James Frere. Somehow I felt my heart sink when from the landing I saw
them in the hall below; I knew that Miss Trelawny was to have the pain
of telling yet another stranger of her ignorance of her father’s life. Sir James Frere was a man who commanded attention followed by respect. He knew so thoroughly what he wanted himself, that he placed at once on
one side all wishes and ideas of less definite persons. The mere flash
of his piercing eyes, or the set of his resolute mouth, or the lowering
of his great eyebrows, seemed to compel immediate and willing obedience
to his wishes. Somehow, when we had all been introduced and he was
well amongst us, all sense of mystery seemed to melt away. It was with
a hopeful spirit that I saw him pass into the sick-room with Doctor
Winchester. They remained in the room a long time; once they sent for the Nurse,
the new one, Sister Doris, but she did not remain long. Again they
both went into Nurse Kennedy’s room. He sent out the nurse attendant
on her. Doctor Winchester told me afterward that Nurse Kennedy, though
she was ignorant of later matters, gave full and satisfactory answers
to all Doctor Frere’s questions relating to her patient up to the time
she became unconscious. Then they went to the study, where they
remained so long, and their voices raised in heated discussion seemed
in such determined opposition, that I began to feel uneasy. As for
Miss Trelawny, she was almost in a state of collapse from nervousness
before they joined us. Poor girl! she had had a sadly anxious time of
it, and her nervous strength had almost broken down. They came out at last, Sir James first, his grave face looking as
unenlightening as that of the sphinx. Doctor Winchester followed him
closely; his face was pale, but with that kind of pallor which looked
like a reaction. It gave me the idea that it had been red not long
before. Sir James asked that Miss Trelawny would come into the study.