“There was a law-suit or dispute of some kind or other between you, was there not?”
“There is something of that kind,” said O'Donoghue, with an air of annoyance at the question; “but these are matters gentlemen leave to their lawyers, and seek not to mix themselves up with.”
“The strong purse is the sinew of war,” muttered the inexorable doctor; “and they tell me he is one of the wealthiest men in England.”
“He may be, for aught I know or care.”
“Well, well,” resumed the other, after a long deliberative pause, “there's no knowing how this little adventure may turn out. If your son saved the girl's life, I scarcely think he could press you so hard about—”
“Take care, sir,” broke in O'Donoghue, and with the words he seized the doctor's wrist in his strong grasp; “take care how you venture to speak of affairs which no wise concern you;” then, seeing the terrified look his speech called up, he added—“I have been very irritable latterly, and never desire to talk on these subjects; so, if you please, we'll change the topic.”
The door was cautiously opened at this moment, and Kerry presented himself, with a request from Sir Archibald, that, as soon as Doctor Roach found it convenient, he would be glad to see him in the sick-room.
“I am ready now,” said the doctor, rising from his chair, and not by any means sorry at the opportunity of escaping a tête-a-tête he had contrived to render so unpalatable to both parties. As he mounted the stairs, he continued in broken phrases to inveigh against the house and the host in a half soliloquy—“A tumble-down old barrack it is—not fifty shillings worth of furniture under the roof—the ducks were as tough as soaked parchment—and where's the fee to come from—I wish I knew that—unless I take one of these old devils instead of it;” and he touched the frame of a large, damp, discoloured portrait of some long-buried ancestor, several of which figured on the walls of the stair-case.
“The boy is worse—far worse,” whispered a low, but distinct voice beside him. “His head is now all astray—he knows no one.”
Doctor Roach seemed vexed at the ceremony of salutation being forgotten in Sir Archibald's eagerness about the youth, and drily answered—