"That is what I am always preaching to my friend," put in Max; "but in vain. This very morning, at an untimely hour, I found him poring over his books, and had literally to hunt him from them. He throws all my prescriptions to the wind."
"You are a member of the Faculty, sir?" asked the Councillor, evidently expecting that this stranger should be presented to him.
"My friend, Dr. Brunnow," said George; "Mr. Councillor Moser."
The chief-clerk suddenly rose out from the depths of his white neckcloth.
"Brunnow--Brunnow?" he repeated.
"Is the name familiar to you, Councillor?" asked Max, innocently.
All benevolence had vanished from the old gentleman's face. It expressed something akin to horror as he replied sharply:
"The name was well known in former times, first in connection with the rebellion, then with the courts of justice. Finally, it was brought into people's mouths by the escape from a fortified place of a political prisoner who bore it. I trust you stand in no relationship to the Dr. Brunnow to whom I allude."
"In the very closest," said the young surgeon, with a most polite bow. "That Dr. Brunnow is my father."
The Councillor recoiled a step, as though to guarantee himself against any chance contact. Then he turned his back on the young man, and concentrated all his ire and indignation on George.