The Sergeant obeyed orders willingly.
“Now then,” said Denham, “talk away. I want to know exactly how matters stand since yesterday.”
“All right, sir,” said the Sergeant, carefully crushing out the match he had struck, as he smoked away.
“Well, go on,” said Denham impatiently. “You said yesterday that things were as bad as they could possibly be.”
“I did, sir.”
“Well, how are they now?”
“Worse. Ever so much worse.”
“What do you mean, you jolly old muddler?” cried Denham, rousing up and looking brighter than he had been since he came under the doctor’s hands.
“What I say, sir,” replied the Sergeant, staring. “Things are ever so much worse.”
“Val,” cried Denham, turning to me, “poor old Briggs has had so much to do with that scoundrel Moriarty that he has caught his complaint.”