'There's a great deal of diversion, Sir, in five hundred guineas, said Mr. Dangerfield, and the spectacles dashed pleasantly upon the doctor.
'Ye may say that,' answered the grinning surgeon, with a quiet oath of expectation.
''Tis a handsome fee, Sir, and you may have it.'
'Five hundred guineas!'
'Ah, you've heard, Sir, perhaps, of the attempted murder in the park, on Doctor Sturk, of the Artillery; for which Mr. Nutter now lies in prison?' said Mr. Dangerfield.
'That I have, Sir.'
'Well, you shall have the money, Sir, if you perform a simple operation.'
''Tis not to hang him you want me?' said the doctor, with a gloomy sneer.
'Hang him!—ha, ha—no, Sir, Doctor Sturk still lives, but insensible. He must be brought to consciousness, and speech. Now, the trepan is the only way to effect it; and I'll be frank with you: Doctor Pell has been with him half a dozen times, and he says the operation would be instantaneously fatal. I don't believe him. So also says Sir Hugh Skelton, to whom I wrote in London—I don't believe him, either. At all events, the man is dying, and can't last very many days longer, so there's nothing risked. His wife wishes the operation; here's her note; and I'll give you five hundred guineas and—what are you here for?'
'Only eighteen, unless some more has come in this morning,' answered the doctor.