'See, Sir,' said Dangerfield, darkening, and speaking with a strange snarl; 'I know what I'm about. I've a desire, Sir, that he should speak, if 'twere only two minutes of conscious articulate life, and then death—'tis not a pin's point to me how soon. Left to himself he must die; therefore, to shrink from the operation on which depends the discovery both of his actual murderer and of his money, Sir, otherwise lost to his family, is—is a damned affectation! I think it—so do you, Sir; and I offer five hundred guineas as your fee, and Mrs. Sturk's letter to bear you harmless.'
Then there was a pause. Dangerfield knew the man's character as well as his skill. There were things said about him darker than we have hinted at.
The surgeon looked very queer and gloomy down upon the table, and scratched his head, and he mumbled gruffly—
'You see—you know—'tis a large fee, to be sure; but then—'
'Come, Sir,' said Dangerfield, looking as though he'd pull him by the ear; 'it is a large fee, and you'll get no more—you should not stick at trifles, when there's—a—a—justice and humanity—and, to be brief, Sir—yes or no?'
'Yes,' answered the doctor; 'but how's the fee secured?'
'Hey! I'd forgot. Right, Sir—you shall be satisfied.'
And he took a pen, and wrote on the back of a letter—
'SIR—Considering the hopeless condition in which Dr. Sturk now lies, and the vast importance of restoring him, Dr. Sturk, of the R.I.A., to the power of speech, even for a few minutes, I beg to second Mrs. Sturk's request to you; and when you shall have performed the critical operation she desires, I hereby promise, whether it succeed or fail, to give you a fee of five hundred guineas.