"It must be a dancing school," conjectured the doctor.
When he reached his son's door, however, there could no longer be any doubt as to whence the sounds proceeded.

There was the stamp and shuffle of feet, the hissing of in-drawn breath, and an occasional soft thud, as if some one were butting his head against a bale of wool.
"It's epilepsy," gasped the doctor, and turning the handle he rushed into the room.
One hurried glance showed him the struggle which was going on.
There was no time to note details.

Some maniac was assaulting his Tom.
He sprang at the man, seized him round the waist, dragged him to the ground, and seated himself upon him.

"Now tie his hands," he said complacently, as he balanced himself upon the writhing figure..