"You're one of the lot that has brought me down," he growled. "How much is it, and how long has it been due?"
"It has been due a long time past," I replied; "and the amount is two shillings, for two bottles of medicine and advice."
"Are you sure it isn't more?"
"Quite sure. I should have paid you before to-day, but when I went to your place--a long while ago, I must tell you--I found you had gone. You practiced in the north of London, you know."
"I do know; I have reason to know. If I had got my rights I should not be as I am. I should be practicing in Belgravia, and driving in my carriage. I'll take another whisky." I nodded at the barman, who refilled the glass, which he instantly emptied again. "What do we slave for? What do we study for? What do we waste the midnight oil for? To be taken in, to be robbed and swindled, to have promises made to us that are never fulfilled."
"Unfortunately," I said, sympathizing with him, "it is the way of the world. It is the simple-minded and the honest that are defrauded."
"You know how it is. Five shillings, you said."
"No; it is two shillings I owe you."
"Interest added, makes it three. You can't object to that."
"I don't object; here is the money."