“Information? Oh! ah! Pray resume your chair, Sir. Information? yes, it is quite possible I may have information such as you need, Heaven knows! But knowledge, they say, is power, and if I do you a service I expect as much from you. Eine hand wascht die and're—one hand, Monsieur, washes ze ozer. No man parts wis zat which is valuable, to strangers, wisout a proper honorarium. I receive no more patients here; but you understand, I may be induced to attend a patient: I may be tempted, you understand.”
“But this is not a case of attending a patient, Baron,” said David Arden, a little haughtily.
“And what ze devil is it, then?” said the baron, turning on him suddenly. “Monsieur will pardon me, but we professional men must turn our time and knowledge to account, do you see? And we don't give eizer wizout being paid, and well paid for them, eh?”
“Of course. I meant nothing else,” said David Arden.
“Then, Sir, we understand one another so far, and that saves time. Now, what information can the Baron Vanboeren give to Monsieur David Arden?”
“I think you would prefer my putting my questions quite straight.”
“Straight as a sword-thrust, Sir.”
“Then, Baron, I want to know whether you were acquainted with two persons, Yelland Mace and Walter Longcluse.”
“Yes, I knew zem bos, slightly and yet intimately—intimately and yet but slightly. You wish, perhaps, to learn particulars about those gentlemen?”