“I don’t think so; but I was laughing—well no, smiling—and he smiled back, and bowed to me, thinking, I suppose, that I was there to say good-bye to him. He little knew, what I was thinking. Well, good riddance. But the doctor—”
“Eh?” said a sharp voice, and the gentleman named stepped out of one of the dark doorways they were passing in the low colonnade.
“Want to see me, my lads?”
“N–no,” stammered Andrew, thoroughly taken aback. “We—were talking about you starting the baron off.”
“Oh, I see,” said the doctor, smiling. “Of course, I saw you there. Yes, he’s gone. Hah! Yes! That was a very peculiar wound, young gentlemen; and I honestly believe that not one in a hundred in my profession could have saved his life. I worked very hard over his case, and he went off, without so much as giving me a little souvenir—a pin or a ring, or a trifle of that kind—seal, for instance.”
“What could you expect from one of those Germans, sir?” said Andrew contemptuously.
“Yes, what indeed!” said the doctor, taking snuff, and looking curiously at Frank. “Bad habit this, young man. Don’t you follow my example. Dirty habit, eh? But, I say, young fellow,” he added, turning to Andrew, “a still tongue maketh a wise head. Wise man wouldn’t shout under the Palace windows such sentiments as those, holding the German nation up to contempt. There, a nod’s as good as a wink to a blind horse. Here, Gowan, what’s the last news?”
“I don’t know of any, sir.”
“Come, come! I’m a friend of his. You needn’t be so close with me. I mean about your father.”
“I have none, sir.”