By the time they had reached Castle Blayney, such had been the Captain's success in ingratiating himself into Layton's good opinion, that the doctor had accepted his invitation to dinner.
“We shall not dine with the coach travellers,” whispered the stranger, “but at a small house I 'll show you just close by. I have already ordered my cutlet there, and there will be enough for us both.”
Never was speech less boastful; a most admirable hot dinner was ready as they entered the little parlor, and such a bottle of port as Layton fancied he had never tasted the equal. By good luck there was ample time to enjoy these excellent things, as the mail was obliged to await at this place for an hour or more the arrival of a cross-post. A second and a third brother of the same racy vintage succeeded; and Layton, warmed by the generous wine, grew open and confidential, not only in speaking of the past, but also to reveal all his hopes for the future, and the object of his journey. Though the Captain was nothing less than a man of science, he could fathom sufficiently the details the other gave to see that the speaker was no ordinary man, and his discovery no small invention.
“Ay,” said the doctor, as, carried away by the excitement of the wine, he grew boastful and vain, “you 'll see, sir, that the man who sat shivering beside you on the outside of the mail without a great-coat to cover him, will, one of these days, be recognized as amongst the first of his nation, and along with Hunter and Bell and Brodie will stand the name of Herbert Layton!”
“You had a very distinguished namesake once, a Fellow of Trinity—”
“Myself, sir, none other. I am the man!” cried he, in a burst of triumphant pride. “I am—that is, I was—the Regius Professor of Medicine; I was Gold Medallist in 18—; then Chancellor's Prizeman; the following year I beat Stack and Naper,—you 've heard of them, I 'm sure, on the Fellowship bench; I carried away the Verse prize from George Wolffe; and now, this day,—ay, sir, this day,—I don't think I 'd have eaten if you had not asked me to dine with you.”
“Come, come,” said the Captain, pushing the decanter towards him, “there are good days coming. Even in a moneyed point of view, your discovery is worth some fifteen or twenty thousand pounds.”
“I 'd not sell it for a million; it shall be within the reach of the humblest peasant in the land the day I have perfected the details. It shall be for Parliament—the two Houses of the nation—to reward me, or I 'll never accept a shilling.”
“That's a very noble and high-spirited resolve. I like you for it; I respect you for it,” said the Captain, warmly.
“I know well what had been my recognition if I had been born a German or a Frenchman. It is in England alone scientific discovery brings neither advancement nor honor. They pension the informer that betrays his confederates, and they leave the man of intellect to die, as Chatterton died, of starvation in a garret. Is n't that true?”