"Lawyer—agent—five per cent.—and so on," muttered the third party, who sate by me, and had not yet spoken.
There was no mistaking him—it was my former master, Mr Cophagus; and I cannot say that I was very well pleased at this intimation of his presence, as I took it for granted that he would recognise me as soon as it was daylight. The conversation continued, without any remarks being made upon this interruption on the part of Mr Cophagus. The agent, it appeared, had been called to London on business, and was returning. The other was a professor of music bound to Dublin on speculation. What called Mr Cophagus in that direction I could not comprehend; but I thought I would try and find out, I therefore, while the two others were engaged in conversation, addressed him in a low tone of voice. "Can you tell me, sir, if the College at Dublin is considered good for the instruction of surgical pupils?"
"Country good, at all events plenty of practice—broken heads—and so on."
"Have you ever been in Ireland, sir?"
"Ireland!—never—don't wish to go—must go—old women will die—executor—botheration—and so on."
"I hope she has left you a good legacy, sir," replied I.
"Legacy—humph—can't tell—silver tea-pot—suit of black, and so on. Long journey—won't pay—can't be helped—old women always troublesome alive or dead—bury her, come back—and so on."
Chapter XL
I deny my master.