At this confession of weakness he looked guiltily at his heroic friend. From the bottom of his heart he wished he had screwed up his courage in private. Welsh had so little imagination.
“By Gad,” exclaimed Welsh, “I’d manage a nunnery for £500!”
“I daresay you would, but a suicidal, and possibly homicidal, lunatic isn’t a nunnery.”
Welsh looked at his friend with diminished respect.
“Then you are going to chuck up £500 and a free trip on the Continent?” he said.
“Dr Watson himself admits the responsibility.”
“With a—what is it?—agreeable young man?”
“Only when in possession of his proper faculties,” said the doctor, dismally.
“And an amiable disposition?”
“With suicidal tendencies, hang it!”