And that's the story, Marmion, which I brought you to hear--told,
as you notice, in fine classical style."
"And why do you tell ME this, Hungerford--a secret you've kept all these
years? Knowledge of that man's crime wasn't necessary before giving him
belladonna or a hot bath."
Hungerford kept back the whole truth for reasons of his own. He said:
"Chiefly because I want you to take a decent interest in the chap. He
looks as if he might go off on the long voyage any tick o' the clock. You
are doctor, parson, and everything else of the kind on board. I like the
poor devil, but anyhow I'm not in a position to be going around with
ginger-tea in a spoon, or Ecclesiastes under my arm,--very good things.
Your profession has more or less to do with the mind as well as the body,
and you may take my word for it that Boyd Madras's mind is as sick as his
torso. By the way, he calls himself 'Charles Boyd,' so I suppose we
needn't recall to him his former experiences by adding the 'Madras.'"
Hungerford squeezed my arm again violently, and added: "Look here,
Marmion, we understand each other in this, don't we? To do what we can
for the fellow, and be mum.
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