"Any time, sir?" says the medical gentleman. "It's probable he wull have been dead aboot three hours."
"About that time, I should say," observes a dark young man on the other side of the bed.
"Air you in the maydickle prayfession yourself, sir?" inquires the first.
The dark young man says yes.
"Then I'll just tak' my depairture," replies the other, "for I'm nae gude here!" With which remark he finishes his brief attendance and returns to finish his dinner.
The dark young surgeon passes the candle across and across the face and carefully examines the law-writer, who has established his pretensions to his name by becoming indeed No one.

"It's probable aboot three hours, sir."
"About that time, I should say," observes a dark young man on the other side of the bed.
"Air you in the maydickle prayfession yourself, sir?" inquires the first.
The dark young man says yes.
"Then I'll just tak' my depairture," replies the other; and he leaves.
The dark young surgeon carefully examines the law-writer, who has now indeed become No one.
