"Eh, my dear Doctor, me voici. Dumas, my dear physician; you've read 'The Three Musqueteers,' of course."
"Ha! ha! if you start quoting already," roared Japix, rolling ponderously into his study, followed by Fanks, "I give in at once; your memory, Mr. Thief-catcher, is cast-iron, and mine isn't. So I surrender at discretion. Now I'll be bound," continued the Doctor, waggishly, sitting in his huge chair, "you don't know where the quotation comes from."
"I don't," replied Fanks, after a moment's thought, sitting down; "you score one, my dear Doctor. By the way, don't call me Thief-catcher."
"Certainly not, Jonathan Wild."
"Nor that either."
"Why not, M. Fouche?"
"The third is the worst of all. At present I'm nothing but Mr. Rixton—my own name, Dr. Japix, as I told you."
"And Octavius Fanks?"
"Is in the Seventh Circle of Hell—at the back of the North Wind—in Nubibus—anywhere except where Mr. Rixton is."
"Ha! ha! hey! You're down here on business!"