"Me, sir?" said Simon, aghast.
"If you will."
"Well, I said after that 'ere willain experimented on me in Yorkshire, I never would again; but if it's for you, sur—why, here goes; I'm purty tough. But how's it to be done?"
Then I told him of my interview with the professor, and how he had told me that only he—Simon—could give the necessary help.
"Let's off at once, yer honour," cried Simon. "I'm willin' for anything if you can git the hupper 'and of that 'ere willain and his other self. Nine days, sur—only nine days! Let's git to the waccinator. I'd rather have small-pox a dozen times than you should be knocked overboard by sich as he."
I was nothing loth, and so, although it was still early, we were soon in a cab on our way to the professor's. On arriving, we were immediately shown in, and the little man soon made his appearance.
"Ah! you've brought him?" said he. "I'm glad to see you so prompt. Would you mind taking this chair, my friend?"—to Simon. "That's it, thank you. You've been travelling all night and are a little tired, I expect. No? Well, it's well to be strong and able to bear fatigue. There, look at me. Ah, that's it!"
With that he put his fingers on Simon's forehead, and my humble friend was unconscious of what was going on around him.
"He's very susceptible; but I am afraid he has not been under this influence a sufficient number of times for his vision to be clear. Still, we'll try.—Simon!"
"That's me," said Simon, sleepily.