For some time past I had done nothing but
parry, waiting calmly for an opportunity. At length an opening presented
itself. I lunged, and the Baron fell, pierced right through the heart,
at the foot of one of his own stately oaks. He rolled up his eyes, and
after death still retained the same expression of ferocity that he wore
when living. Thus died the last Baron ----. With his death the line became extinct,
and the property fell into other hands. Duelling even in those days was
fast falling into disuse, and I had to fly the country. I travelled for
many years, and at length returned home, but never from the day of the
duel up to the present time have I once neglected to wear the pious
relic of that poor Italian girl round my neck. *       *       *       *       *

Bursts of applause followed the lawyer's recital. Mr. Blackdeed said it
ought to be dramatised; that it would "create a sensation," and "bring
down the house." The doctor shook his head gravely. The chairman, in a
short speech, proposed the health of the narrator, and expressed a hope
that he might be free from all such clients for the future. "Shiver my timbers!" cried Captain Toughyarn, "if that yarn won't do for
the marines. Odds, blood and thunder, if I thought anyone but a tar
could have spun such a yarn as that. I tell you what it is, Hardcase,
you've mistaken your calling. You were meant for the sea." "I hope, Captain Toughyarn," said the lawyer, "you don't doubt the
veracity of my statement." "Not I," answered the captain, but with a most provoking look of
scepticism, which belied his words. "I do believe the captain's a sceptic," said the chairman. "Take care,
captain, the rules of this club are severe. If any member or guest
presumes to doubt the statement of any other member of the club, given
out by the said member as a fact, he shall incur the penalty of being
forced to drink a cup of cold water on his bended knees, and----"

"Ugh!" groaned the captain, before the chairman had finished his
sentence. "Well, chairman," he said, humbly awed at the severity of the
sentence, "I don't mean to say that I'll give a 'lee lurch,' and throw
Mr. Hardcase's cargo overboard altogether; but the fact is I have been
on shore so long, that I have got quite out of the way of shipping those
sorts of goods into my hold, and it rather sticks in my tramway, but I
have no doubt that another glass of grog will send it clean down, and
that I shall find storage-room in my hull for that and as much more
cargo as any of our messmates choose to ship this evening." "Hear, hear," cried the guests, passing the bowl towards the captain,
who, after having filled up his glass and drained it, declared himself
ready to set sail. "Another bowl, landlord!" shouted the chairman; "and whilst you are
about it, you might bring up another log as well. See how the cold makes
the fire burn." Then, turning to his guest, Mr. Vandyke McGuilp, he
observed, "It is lucky you arrived in time to-night for our great
meeting. You have now heard a specimen of these stories, the fame of
which has reached Rome." At this moment the host returned with a fresh bowl of punch, which was
received with a murmur of approbation. The landlord then stirred up the
fire, and put on a fresh log. It was getting late, but that was nothing
for the members of the "Wonder Club" on such an occasion as this. "It's freezing hard to-night, sir," said the landlord to the chairman. "Is it, mine host?" said Mr. Oldstone, rendered still more good humoured
under the influence of the punch. "Then fill up a bumper and drink to
the health of our club, after which you may sit down here and listen to
the next story, if you can prevent falling asleep. Our first story you
have missed. Oh, I can assure you it would have given you the horrors to
have listened to it." Here our worthy host filled up a glass, and, nodding his head, drank to
the long life of all the members and guests, and hoped that the club
might have as many more anniversaries as there were hairs in the heads
of all the members put together. This sentiment was received with applause, and the health of the
landlord was drunk with three times three. He replied to it in a short,
bluff, and unembarrassed speech, amid cheers; and rattling of glasses. Then modestly taking a seat at some little distance from the table,
filled his pipe, lighted it, and put himself into a listening attitude. "It is your turn now, doctor," said the chairman. "We're all waiting,
and, mind, we all expect a good one. On this evening, gentlemen, each
one must strive to outdo his neighbour." "I cannot promise that I will outdo Mr. Hardcase's narrative," said the
doctor, modestly, "but I will do my best to add to the entertainment of
the company in my humble way." "Bravo, doctor!" cried several voices at once. Mr. Oldstone thumped the table and called out, "Silence, gentlemen; Dr.
Bleedem will favour us with a story." Silence immediately ensued, and the doctor began. [Illustration]


CHAPTER II. THE SPIRIT LOVERS.--THE DOCTOR'S STORY. I am about to relate, gentlemen, a curious incident in my medical
experience, many years ago. When I was yet a young practitioner I had already a numerous circle of
patients, out of which it will be only necessary for me to bring two
cases before you this evening. The first was that of a young man of
about four-and-twenty, whom I shall call Charles. He was of good family,
and his parents were moderately well off. I was called to his bedside,
the former doctor having been dismissed. I had had some conversation
with the parents of the young man before I was ushered into his
presence. They informed me that my predecessor had pronounced his
disease "a rapid decline" and as incurable. But the case had other
peculiarities which puzzled him. The brain, he said, was much affected. The patient ate little, unlike other consumptive subjects, whose
appetites are usually enormous. He slept much, and talked much in his
sleep, but in his waking moments he was irritable and restless, and
preferred being left alone all day. He could not even bear the sight of
his own parents in his room. He had his regular hours of sleep, and
always seemed to look forward to his hours of rest, especially to his
nightly hours. I questioned the parents as to how long he had been in this state. They
told me more than a year. I inquired if any member of their family had
ever died of consumption. They replied that not one, either on the
father's side or the mother's, bore the slightest trace of that malady,
and that for many generations back the members of both families had
lived to a good old age. Neither of the parents could give the slightest
account of how the disease originated. Their son had been sent to the university two or three years before,
where he had studied hard, but without having made up his mind to follow
any particular profession. They suggested that possibly over-study had
sewn the seeds of the disease.