“Does any man who has lived as long as you or I quite trust his own resolution? No one likes to be nailed to a plan of action an hour before he need be. I find my practice more lucrative every day. I may be tempted to postpone my retirement, and for a while longer to continue to gather the golden harvest that ripens round me. But once I take this step, all is up with that. You see—you understand. Bah! you are no fool; it is plain, all I sacrifice.”
“Of course, Baron, you shall take no trouble, and make no sacrifice, without ample compensation. But are you aware of the nature of the crime committed by that man?”
“I never trouble my head about details; it is enough, the man is a political refugee, and his object concealment.”
“But he was no political refugee; he had nothing to do with politics—he was simply a murderer and a robber.”
“What a little rogue! Will you excuse my smoking a pipe and drinking a little beer? Now, he never hinted that, although I knew him very intimately, for he was my patient for some months; never hinted it, he was so sly.”
“And Mr. Longcluse, was he your patient also?”
“Ha! to be sure he was. You won't drink some beer? No; well, in a moment.”
He drew a little jugful from the cask, and placed it, and a pewter goblet, on the table, and then filled, lighted, and smoked his pipe as he proceeded.
“I will tell you something concerning those gentlemen, Mr. Longcluse and Mr. Mace, which may amuse you. Listen.”
