Master Nathaniel told him it was a lad who had once been in his service called Willy Wisp.
"Willy Wisp?" cried the doctor hoarsely. "Willy Wisp?"
"Yes, Willy Wisp ... confound him for a double-dyed villain," said Master Nathaniel fiercely. And then added in some surprise, "Do you know him?"
"Know him? Yes, I know him. Who doesn't know Willy Wisp?" said the doctor. "You see not being a merchant or a Senator," he added with a sneer, "I can mix with whom I choose. Willy Wisp with his pranks was the plague of the town while he was in it, and his Worship the Mayor wasn't altogether blessed by the townsfolk for keeping such a rascally servant."
"Well, anyway, when I next meet him I'll thrash him within an inch of his life," cried Master Nathaniel violently; and Endymion Leer looked at him with a queer little smile.
"And now you'd better take me to see your son and heir," he said, after a pause.
"Do you ... do you think you'll be able to cure him?" Master Nathaniel asked hoarsely, as he led the way to the parlour.
"I never answer that kind of question before I've seen the patient, and not always then," answered Endymion Leer.
Ranulph was lying on a couch in the parlour, and Dame Marigold was sitting embroidering, her face pale and a little defiant. She was still feeling every inch a Vigil and full of resentment against the two Chanticleers, father and son, for having involved her in this horrible business.
Poor Master Nathaniel stood by, faint with apprehension, while Endymion Leer examined Ranulph's tongue, felt his pulse and, at the same time, asked him minute questions as to his symptoms.