Whisky it was, and Irish; I spilled mine on the floor, and filled my glass with water. Dr. Cooper dealt with his as he dealt with the beer; it was evidently not his habit to take two bites at a cherry.
When he had disposed of this second portion in a similar manner to the first, I opened the ball, and inwardly took credit to myself for rather artful tactics.
"I came down this way, doctor," I said, "especially to see you."
He seized my wrist with one hand, and put the other into his waistcoat pocket, removing it immediately, however, with a husky cough and an angry shake of his head.
"No, no, doctor," I said, laughing, as he fumbled at my pulse, "I do not need professional advice to-day. The fact is, I have come to pay an old debt."
He retained my hand, as though to prevent my escaping him.
"You're one of the lot that has brought me down," he growled. "How much is it, and how long has it been due?"
"It has been due a long time past," I replied; "and the amount is two shillings, for two bottles of medicine and advice."
"Quite sure. I should have paid you before to-day, but when I went to your place--a long while ago, I must tell you--I found you had gone. You practiced in the north of London, you know."
"I do know; I have reason to know. If I had got my rights I should not be as I am. I should be practicing in Belgravia, and driving in my carriage. I'll take another whisky." I nodded at the barman, who refilled the glass, which he instantly emptied again. "What do we slave for? What do we study for? What do we waste the midnight oil for? To be taken in, to be robbed and swindled, to have promises made to us that are never fulfilled."
"Unfortunately," I said, sympathizing with him, "it is the way of the world. It is the simple-minded and the honest that are defrauded."
"You know how it is. Five shillings, you said."
"Interest added, makes it three. You can't object to that."
He took it, and dropped it in his pocket. We had each of us only one disengaged hand, as he still kept hold of my wrist.
"A feeble pulse," he said, shaking his head with tipsy gravity, "a very feeble pulse. Needs a stimulant."
"Irish whisky," he echoed; and disposed of his fourth glass, while I spilled mine as I had done before.