"Oh, Lord!" said Mudd. "I never did think I'd live to see this day."
"Oh, it might be worse."
"I don't see."
"Well, from what I can make out of his youth, it was not a vicious one, only foolish; had he been vicious when young he might be terrible now."
"The first solicitor in London," said Mudd in a dreary voice.
"Well, he's not the first solicitor in London to make a fool of himself, nor will he be the last. Cheer up and keep your eyes open and do your duty; no man can do more than that."
"Shall I send for you, doctor, if he gets worse?"
"Well," said Oppenshaw; "from what you tell me he couldn't be much worse. Oh no, don't bother to send—unless, of course, the thing took a different course, and he were to become violent without reason; but that won't happen, you can take my word for it."
Mudd departed.
He walked all the way back to the Charing Cross Hotel, but instead of entering, he suddenly took a taxi, and returned to Charles Street. Here he packed some things in a handbag, and having again given directions to Mrs. Jukes to lock up the plate, he told her he might be some time gone.