"The person says, there's a sudden death in my house--an accident, say by charcoal, say by gas. A pure accident, most lamentable. A doctor's testimony is required, for formality's sake. Any doctor will do. You are in the neighborhood. Will you testify? Fee, so many guineas, and afterward a lift up in life, a chance to get along. As our national poet expresses it, 'My poverty, but not my will, consents.' You do no wrong; the person is a gentleman, and you take his word; you testify at the inquest, and all is smooth sailing. The affair is forgotten. You receive your few guineas, and you wait for the chance to get along in life, for the lift up that will bring you a lucrative practice. It never comes. The person shrugs his shoulders, contradicts you, jockeys you. What's the consequence? Your suspicions are excited. The person inherits a great sum of money by the death. You ferret that out; your suspicions grow stronger. You go to the person, and you mention your suspicions. He says, 'You are putting yourself in danger; if you have given false evidence, the law will make you suffer for it; you are a fool and a knave. Get out!' You are bound to submit. What are your feelings toward the person who has treated you so shamefully? What would you do him if it was in your power?" "I would certainly--supposing this not to be a hypothetical case----" "Which it is," interposed Dr. Cooper, "purely hypothetical." "Exactly. How could it be otherwise? But such conversations are most interesting to an outsider like myself. Supposing then, this not to be a hypothetical case, I would certainly be glad of any chance to be even with the person who has imposed upon me. Carrying the hypothesis further, what should you say became of the body of the--did you say a lady?" "No, I don't think I said a lady; but let it be a lady, for the sake of argument." "What became of the body--though that's a stupid question, because, of course, it was buried in the usual way?" "It might not have been. There's such a thing as cremation." What turn the conversation would have taken after this startling observation it is out of my power to say, for the slatternly wife of the doctor made her appearance here, and told my tipsy companion that a patient required his immediate attention. An hour afterward I was once more in Lamb's Terrace. CHAPTER XXI. BARBARA GIVES US SOME VALUABLE INFORMATION. "We thought you were lost," said Bob, and Barbara looked up with a smile, a sign that she regarded me as a friend. They had waited dinner for me, and I was surprised to see on the table quite an imposing array of crockery. "Where does all this come from?" I asked.