"Suggestive," said the bishop, drawing down the corners of his mouth. "Very suggestive, doctor. I recall a similar case at Riga in 1876; another in Constantinople in 1895; and still a third in — hum — in St. Louis in 1909."
"You do get about, don't you?" inquired Dr. Fell admiringly. He studied Morley Standish. "What business was Depping in?"
"Oh, something in the City, I believe."
"Urn. It's a curious thing," grunted Dr. Fell, scowling, "that whenever a man wants to give somebody a character of sound and colorless respectability, he says that he's something in the City. Why did Depping have a bad character hereabouts?"
Standish's manner became defensive and uncomfortable in a way that was reminiscent of his father.
"Bad character?" he repeated. "What do you mean?"
There was a pause. Dr. Fell only shook his head deprecatingly and continued to look at Standish in a benevolent fashion. For a still longer time he kept on staring, his massive head on one side.
"Erf said Morley Standish, and cleared his throat, "I mean, what makes you think he did have a bad character?"
He spoke with a certain weak truculence, and the doctor nodded.
"Well, one person, at least, appears to think he is a blister, and even your staunch parent didn't contradict it. Besides, you know, you yourself referred to him as an 'old ba-.' Eh?"