“Tobin!”
“No less.”
“Why, Tobin doesn’t know me from Adam.”
“Not so fast, my friend; don’t come to conclusions so abruptly. Tobin has his eyes about him.”
“Well, yes, that is an attribute that is common to all who become first-rate in anything.”
“Let me tell you exactly what occurred. I was on the point of leaving Chancery Lane about six, and beginning to think about my dinner, when I received poor Tobin’s telegram to say he was tucked up in hospital with a broken thigh, and would I come to him at once. Of course I went; and there the poor fellow was in a devilish uncomfortable attitude, as white as the sheets, face drawn with pain, but himself as cool as ice.
“‘We shall have to apply for a postponement,’ were his first words.
“‘In any case, old boy,’ said I, ‘I shall relieve you of further responsibility.’
“‘Not much!’ said he. ‘Get a postponement until next sessions; I am going to save the poor beggar’s neck.’
“‘Why, old boy,’ I said, fixing him up with a cigarette, ‘you will be lying here in your little bed until next sessions.’