"
"What can you do?"
"Here's a specimen."
The MS. was a bundle of bills from a public-house, and the blank side
was utilised. The Doctor never wasted money on paper when he could avoid
it. The stuff was feeble, involved, useless. My face must have fallen,
for the piteous Scarecrow said, "I have not your approval."
"We cannot use this."
Bending forward and clasping his hands, he said, "Could you not give me
two shillings for it? There are two columns good. A shilling a column;
surely that can't hurt you."
"I'll give you two shillings, and you can come back again if you are
needy, but the MS. is of no use to us."
He took the money, and returned again and again for more. I found that
he used to put fourpence in one pocket to meet the expense of his
lodging-house bed, and he bought ten two-pennyworths of gin with the
rest of the money. He always asked for two shillings, and always got
it. I was not responsible for his mode of spending it.
And now the Doctor had turned up in the region of The Chequers.
Pages:
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143