"Here's luck, sir," said one of them, nodding.
"I looks towards you, sir," said the other, sipping his grog.
"Thanks, my man, thanks," said the doctor.
"A——h!" gasped Bill, after a deep draught, and smacking his lips, "this is something like a glass of grog. I feel myself again. I'd as lief set out again after another subject to-night as not."
"Well, mate," said Tom, draining his glass, "I guess we'd better toddle."
The doctor then counted out twenty guineas, and gave the men ten apiece.
"Thank ye kindly, sir," said they, "and when again you be in want of our services, your honour knows where to find us. Good-night, sir."
"Good-night," responded the doctor, as he showed them out and closed the door.
I was left alone for a moment, but when he returned he might begin dissecting me at once, and that would be horrible, for I was still in my trance. I hoped he would defer operations until the morrow. In the meantime I hoped to come to. Then I heard the doctor's footsteps in the passage, and here he was again. Would he really cut me up before I could call out or defend myself? Good Heavens! What was he about now? He had tucked up his shirt sleeves and seized his dissecting-knife!
All was lost. My hopes had been raised only to be dashed to the ground. My last hour had come. Already I felt the point of the murderous instrument against my chest. Rip!—an incision had been made!