"She might," assented Kilsip, doubtfully; "but I wouldn't be a bit surprised if she pulled through. Some of these old women have nine lives like a cat."
"Not improbable," retorted Calton, as they passed into the brilliantly-lighted street; "her nature seemed to me to be essentially feline. But tell me," he went on, "what's the matter with her—old age?"
"Partly; drink also, I think," answered Kilsip. "Besides, her surroundings are not very healthy, and her dissipated habits have pretty well settled her."
"It isn't anything catching, I hope," cried the barrister, with a shudder, as they passed into the crowd of Bourke Street.
"Don't know, sir, not being a doctor," answered the detective, stolidly.
"Oh!" ejaculated Calton, in dismay.
"It will be all right, sir," said Kilsip, reassuringly; "I've been there dozens of times, and I'm all right."
"I dare say," retorted the barrister; "but I may go there once and catch it, whatever it is."
"Take my word, sir, it's nothing worse than old age and drink."
"Has she a doctor?"