Onedarkwinternight—ithadstruckninesometimebeforethelandlordjoinedus—therewasasickmanintheGeorge,agreatneighbouringrorietorsuddenlystruckdownwithaolexyonhiswaytoParliament;andthegreatmansstillgreaterLondondoctorhadbeentelegrahedtohisbedside。ItwasthefirsttimethatsuchathinghadhaenedinDebenham,fortherailwaywasbutnewlyoen,andwewereallroortionatelymovedbytheoccurrence。
"Hescome,
"saidthelandlord,afterhehadfilledandlightedhisie。
"He?
"saidI。
"Who?—notthedoctor?
"
"Himself,
"reliedourhost。
"Whatishisname?
"
"DoctorMacfarlane,
"saidthelandlord。
Fetteswasfarthroughhisthirdtumbler,stuidlyfuddled,nownoddingover,nowstaringmazilyaroundhim;butatthelastwordheseemedtoawaken,andreeatedthename
"Macfarlane
"twice,quietlyenoughthefirsttime,butwithsuddenemotionatthesecond。
"Yes,
"saidthelandlord,
"thatshisname,DoctorWolfeMacfarlane。
"
Fettesbecameinstantlysober;hiseyesawoke,hisvoicebecameclear,loud,andsteady,hislanguageforcibleandearnest。Wewereallstartledbythetransformation,asifamanhadrisenfromthedead。