"Yes, sir," said Matt; "let me have my own way, please. You let me go my way, and I'll work the matter out for you if it's possible, so that it shall be in trim for the lawyers, and then I'll give up. But there, I won't do anything without consulting you first, and--no, thank you; I'd rather not. No; I like sausages well enough sometimes, but not to-day, thank you; I'm off in a moment. Don't you do anything, whatever you do, to put your uncle on his guard. Depend upon it, he thinks now, after all this time, that you've given it quite up; while, if things go on as I hope, we shall come down upon him one of these days in a way that shall startle him--shake his nerves so that he sha'n't find a tonic for them." Old Matt shuffled off, once more steadily refusing to partake of any refreshment; while Septimus slowly and thoughtfully made his way towards the entrance to the Rents, pondering over his visit to the churches some weeks back, and then thinking that it would be better to settle down contentedly in his present state, for fear that after research, labour, and endless publicity, the words of his uncle should prove to be those of truth, and his condition worse than it was at the present time. "Better the present doubt and obscurity," he muttered. "Octavius Hardon, Lavinia Addison, Ellen Morris--all witnesses to the truth, but dead, dead." "Stop, stop!" cried a voice, as he turned into the Rents; and the next moment, with his hand to his side, old Matt stood by him, gasping. "I ain't the thing to-night, sir; I'm ill, but I've got it here--here somewhere," he said, tapping his forehead, "and I can't get it out. It's here, though. It's `medicine and attendance, Mrs Hardon--so much,' isn't it? That's it, sir, ain't it?" Septimus stared wonderingly at him. "You may well look, sir," said Matt, panting still; "but that's it, and I've seen it somewhere, and I'll tell you where directly. It all came like a flash just after I left you; there it was, just as I saw it written down: `Medicine and attendance, Mrs Hardon--so much;' and I can keep seeming to see the words dance before my eyes now. I saw them written down somewhere once, and I can't just now say where; but I seem to feel that I've got them all right, and I shall have it. Good-night, sir. Remember me to Miss Lucy;" and the old man staggered away, muttering aloud, "Medicine and attendance--medicine and attendance;" while more than one person in the street turned to look at the bent figure, to shake a sapient head, and mutter, "Or hospital." For poor old Matt looked sick unto death, though Septimus Hardon, deep in his own thoughts, had taken but little notice of the old man's indisposition. Volume Two, Chapter XI. LUCY'S BEST.