'Good! and I'll jot down your evidence, and we'll drive over to Mr. Lowe's, to Lucan, and you shall swear before him. And, you understand—I don't forget what I promised—you'll be a happier man every way for having done your duty; and here's half-a-crown to spend in the Salmon House.'
Irons only moaned, and then said—
'That's all, Sir. But I couldn't feel easy till it was off my mind.'
'At eight o'clock I shall expect you. Good-night, Irons.'
And with his hands in his pockets he watched Irons off the ground. His visage darkened as for a while his steady gaze was turned toward Dublin. He was not quite so comfortable as he might have been.
Meanwhile Black Dillon, at Mrs. Sturk's request, had stalked up stairs to the patient's bed-side.
'Had not I best send at once for Mr. Dangerfield?' she enquired.
'No occasion, Ma'am,' replied the eminent but slightly fuddled 'Saw-bones,' spitting beside him on the floor 'until I see whether I'll operate to-night. What's in that jug, Ma'am? Chicken-broth? That'll do. Give him a spoonful. See—he swallows free enough;' and then Black Dillon plucked up his eyelids with a roughness that terrified the reverential and loving Mrs. Sturk, and examined the distorted pupils.
'You see the cast in that eye, Ma'am; there's the pressure on the brain.'
Dillon was lecturing her upon the case as he proceeded, from habit, just as he did the students in the hospital.