“None the better for you and your quackeries,” was the reply. “And if I am supposed to be sick enough to have a physician, why the devil am I not sent to a hospital, and not kept in this wretched hole?” he added, still believing himself to be in the condemned cell of the Chuxton jail.
“Why, don’t they treat you well here?” pleasantly inquired Dr. Hobbs.
But Gentleman Geff disdained to reply and turned his face to the wall.
The doctor rose to take leave.
“I think the man is getting along very well; much better than I ever thought that he would.”
“I think he is an ungrateful beast!” exclaimed Longman.
“Oh, you must not judge him harshly. His head is not clear yet. He does not know friends from foes,” replied the doctor, who knew nothing whatever of Gentleman Geff’s criminal career, so well had the secret been kept by those who possessed it.
Longman did not answer in words; but his grim silence was sufficiently expressive.
“And now you may let a little more light in the room and give him a more varied diet,” was the parting instruction of the physician.
As soon as the latter had gone and the door closed behind him Longman returned to the bedside of his charge.