"Oh, indeed?" said the old gentleman. "Then it was your young man who came for me. I am a physician and was requested--five minutes ago--to come and visit a sick man at George's Shooting Gallery."
"The muffled drums," said Mr. George, turning to Richard and me and gravely shaking his head. "It's quite correct, sir. Will you please to walk in."
The door being at that moment opened by a very singular-looking little man in a green-baize cap and apron, whose face and hands and dress were blackened all over, we passed along a dreary passage into a large building with bare brick walls where there were targets, and guns, and swords, and other things of that kind. When we had all arrived here, the physician stopped, and taking off his hat, appeared to vanish by magic and to leave another and quite a different man in his place.

"Then it was your young man who came for me. I am a physician and was requested - five minutes ago - to come and visit a sick man here."
"Quite correct, sir," said Mr. George gravely.
The door being at that moment opened by a very singular-looking little man in a green-baize apron, whose face and hands and dress were blackened all over, we passed along a dreary passage into a large building with bare brick walls where there were targets, and guns, and swords. The physician stopped, and taking off his hat, appeared to vanish by magic and to leave another and quite a different man in his place.
