Time crawled on very slowly.
Anxious forebodings oppressed me.

Had Sir Anthony's valiancy stood the test?
Had he been able to shake hands with his daughter's betrayer?
Had he broken down during the drive side by side with him, amid the hooraying of the townsfolk?
And Gedge?
Had he found some madman's means of proclaiming the scandal aloud?
Every nerve in my body was strained.
Marigold, in his uniform and medals and patch and grey service cap plugged over his black wig, stood sentry by the side of the platform next my chair.

All of a sudden he pulled out of his side pocket a phial of red liqueur in a medicine glass.

He poured out the dose and handed it to me.

I turned on him wrathfully.
"What the dickens is that ?" "Dr.Cliffe's orders, sir." "When did he order it ?" "When I told him what you looked like after interviewing Mister Daniel Gedge.