as usual, to see how the patient was getting on, and if
anything could be done.

"Rubbish!" cried Dick, who was still very weak; but there was a
different look in his eyes now that was cheering, and it made Jerry rub
his hands.

"All right; you call it rubbish. That's the way of the world. Chap's
dying; doctor gives him the right stuff, and pulls him round; and he
says: `Physic? Rubbish! I should have got right by myself.'"

"I wasn't talking about doctors," said Dick, "but of you and your
shampooing."

"All right, have it your own way; but you began to get better the
morning after the guv'nor brought Miss Deane, and since I shampooed
you."

"Absurd!" cried Dick.

"That's right, stick to it; but I say that when a man's weak and upset,
if he has a good shampoo--I mean a real shampoo, given by anyone who
understands it--he begins to feel better directly. There, it stands to
reason. Even a watch won't go without it's properly cleaned now and
then; so how can you expect it of a human being? But never mind, sir,
you are better, and that's everything. Mind my coming up?"

"Mind? No; I'm glad to see you, Jerry. How is Mr Lacey?"

"Well, I wanted to talk to you about him, sir."

"Not going back, surely?" said Dick, eagerly.

"Well, he is and he isn't, if you can understand that."

"But has the doctor seen him?"

"Wouldn't do no good, if he did, sir. Sort of complaint no doctor
couldn't cure."

"Now, look here, Jerry; do you see that glass of lemonade?"

"See it? Of course."

"Then take warning: if you begin telling me that nothing will do Mr
Lacey any good but a shampoo, I'll throw it at you."

Jerry grinned.

"You are getting better, Dick Smithson, and no mistake," he said; "but
you can drink the stuff, for you won't have to throw it at me, because
shampooing ain't no good for a bit o' gambling--whether it's
horse-racing or cards."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, this, S'Rich--"

"Hush!"

_Slap_!

Jerry gave himself a heavy pat on the mouth.

"Forgot," he muttered. "Look here, sir--I mean Dick Smithson--has Mr
Lacey got plenty of money?"

"I don't know. He must be pretty well-off or he couldn't live as he
does."

"Oh, I don't see that. Lots o' gentry lives in good style and no money
per rannum, as we calls it, at all. But you think he is pretty
well-off?"

"Yes; why are you talking like this?"

"Because he ought to be stopped, or somebody else ought."

"I don't understand