'I'll lay you an even guinea
Sturk's dead before nine to-morrow morning; and two to one he's dead
before this time to-morrow night.'
'I thank you--no, Sir--two doctors over him, and his head in two
pieces--you're very obliging, lieutenant, but I'll choose a likelier
wager,' said Cluffe.
Dangerfield, who was overlooking the party, with his back to the fire,
appeared displeased at their levity--shook his head, and was on the
point of speaking one of those polite but cynical reproofs, whose irony,
cold and intangible, intimidated the less potent spirits of the
club-room. But he dismissed it with a little shrug. And a minute after,
Major O'Neill and Arthur Slowe became aware that Dangerfield had glided
behind them, and was looking serenely, like themselves, at the Dublin
doctor's carriage and smoking team. The light from Sturk's bed-room
window, and the red glare of the footman's torch, made two little
trembling reflections in the silver spectacles as he stood in the shade,
peering movelessly over their shoulders.
''Tis a sorry business, gentlemen,' he said in a stern, subdued tone.
'Seven children and a widow.
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