"You can bet I should like it all right," was the eager reply. "Why, it's a chance for which any chap in my position would sell his soul."
The surgeon smiled again at his young companion's enthusiasm.
"Well, I think it might be arranged on less dramatic terms than that. As a matter of fact, I was talking to the old boy last night. He doesn't often show up in public nowadays, but he happened to come along to a special meeting of the Board of Health, and he and I had a long yarn together. Amongst other things he asked me if I knew a young fellow who'd make a suitable assistant. He wants someone to live in the house, and he told me that if he could find the right man he was prepared to pay a salary of four hundred a year. That, of course, would be in addition to living expenses."
"Four hundred a year!" echoed Gray in astonishment.
"Oh, he can afford it well enough. He's rolling in money, and he never spends a bob on anything except his work."
"Why, he can take his pick amongst the best-trained men in England," declared Gray. "They'd simply fall over themselves to get in with Carter, whether there's a salary attached to it or not."
"That may be the case," assented Sir George drily, "but, as it happens, very few of them possess the particular qualification on which the Professor insists. You see, he wants someone who's an expert boxer as well as being a fully qualified scientist."
Gray stared at his visitor in utter bewilderment.
"Sounds a bit comic, doesn't it?" pursued the latter tranquilly. "The fact is the old gentleman's suffering from nerves. About nine weeks ago his house on Campden Hill was broken into by burglars, and ever since then he seems to have been living in a mortal funk that the same thing would happen again."
"But hasn't he any one in the place besides himself?" demanded Gray.