"I am glad you did," said Jim. "There are some questions I must put to him."
"In that case, please step this way, sir, and I'll speak to the doctor. You shall not be kept waiting any longer than I can help."
He led Jim along the landing, then opened a door and disappeared into a room at the further end. While he was absent Jim looked about him and took stock of his position. The small gas-jet that lit up the well of the staircase, served to show the dirty walls in all their dreariness. The sound of voices reached him from above and below, while the cries of the hawkers in the street came faintly in and added to the general squalor. Then as he stood there he recalled that first meeting with Murbridge beside the Darling River. In his mind's eye he saw the evening sun illumining the gums on the opposite bank, the soft breeze ruffling the surface of the river, an old pelican fishing for his evening meal in the back-water, and lastly, Richard Murbridge stretched out beside his newly-lighted fire. This would be their third meeting; and in what a place, and under what terribly changed circumstances! He was indulging in this reverie when the door opened once more, and a small, grey-haired man emerged.
"Good evening, my dear sir," he said, "I understand that you're Mr. Standerton, the son of the man the poor wretch inside is suspected of having murdered. However, they have captured him too late."
"You mean, I suppose, that he will not live?" said Jim, interrogatively.
"If he sees the light of morning I shall be very much surprised," said the doctor; "in point of fact he is sinking fast. You wish to see him, do you not?"
"I do," said Jim. "There is some mystery connected with him that I am very desirous of clearing up."
"I see," said the medico, "and in that case I presume that you would wish to see him alone?"
"If you can permit it," Jim replied.
"I think it might be managed," answered the other. "But if you will stay here for a moment I will let you know."