"And what, may I ask, do you suppose it _is_?" inquired Varbarriere.
"Well, _gout_, you know--he's positive; and, poor fellow, he's got it in his foot, and a very nasty thing it is, I know, even _there_. We all of us have it hereditarily--our family." The apostle and martyr did not want him to suppose he had earned it. "But I am very anxious, sir. Do _you_ know anything of gout? May it be _there_ and somewhere else at the same time? Two members of our family died of it in the stomach, and one in the head. It has been awfully fatal with us."
Varbarriere shook his head. He had never had a declared attack, and had no light to throw on the sombre prospect. The fact is, if that solemn gentleman had known for certain exactly how matters stood, and had not been expecting the arrival of his contumacious nephew, he would have been many miles on his way to London by this time.
"You know--you know, _sinking_ seems very odd as a symptom of common gout in the great toe," said Dives, looking in his companion's face, and speaking rather like a man seeking than communicating information. "We must not frighten the ladies, you know; but I'm very much afraid of something in the stomach, eh? and possibly the heart."
"After all, sir," said Varbarriere, with a brisk effort, "Doctor--a--what's his name?--he's but a rural practitioner--an apothecary--is not it so?"
"The people here say, however, he's a very clever fellow, though," said Dives, not much comforted.
"We may hear a different story when the Slowton doctor comes. I venture to think we shall. I always fancied when gout was well out in the toe, the internal organs were safe. Oh! there's the Bishop."
"Just talking about poor Jekyl, my lord," said Dives, with a sad smile of deference, the best he could command.
"And--and how _is_ my poor friend and pupil, Sir Jekyl?--better, I trust," responded the apostle in gaiters and apron.
"Well, my lord, we hope--I trust everything satisfactory; but the Doctor has been playing the sphinx with us, and I don't know exactly what to make of him."
"I saw Doctor Pratt for a moment, and expressed my wish to see his patient--my poor pupil--before I go, which must be--yes--within an hour," said the Bishop, consulting his punctual gold watch. "But he preferred my postponing until Doctor--I forget his name--very much concerned, _indeed_, that a second should be thought necessary--from Slowton--should have arrived. It--it gives me--I--I can't deny, a rather serious idea of it. Has he had many attacks?"