"We are apt to be our own doctors in these cases," said Mr. Booley, calmly. "At all events he can be taken as far as the county gaol."
"Upon my word, it would be murder to think of it—a man in a brain fever, in a delirium, to be taken over jolting roads—dear me! It is not to be thought of!"
Mr. Booley smiled benignly, for the first time since the squire had made his acquaintance.
"You seem to forget, Mr. Juxon, that my time is very valuable," he observed.
"Yes—no doubt—but the man's life, Mr. Booley, is valuable too."
"Hardly, I should say," returned the detective coolly. "But since you are so very pressing, I will ask to see the man at once. I can soon tell you whether he will die on the road or not. I have had considerable experience in that line."
"You shall see him, as soon as the doctor comes," replied the squire, shocked at the man's indifference and hardness.
"It certainly cannot hurt him to see me, if he is still unconscious or raving," objected Mr. Booley.
"He might have a lucid moment just when you are there—the fright would very likely kill him."
"That would decide the question of moving him," answered Booley, taking his glasses from his nose, laying down the paper and rising to his feet. "There is clearly some reason why you object to my seeing him now. I would not like to insist, Mr. Juxon, but you must please remember that it may be my duty to do so."