Basket obligingly repeated it.
"Most happy! Shakespeare, you say? Thank you." The Doctor copied
it into his pocket-book among the prescriptions.
"One might add, perhaps," Mr. Basket submitted respectfully, "that a
mere physical description, however animated, cannot do justice to my
friend's moral grandeur, which, indeed, would require the brush of a
Michael Angelo."
The Chief Constable inquired what reward they proposed to offer.
"Ah, yes; to be sure!" Taken somewhat unexpectedly, Mr. Basket and
the Doctor exchanged glances.
"On behalf of the relatives, now--" began Mr. Basket.
"So far as I know, Miss Martha was the one relative he had in the
world," answered the Doctor.
"So much the better, my friend, seeing that you have (as I
understand) her entire confidence."
"I was about to suggest that--circumstances having forced you into
prominence--to take the lead, so to speak, in this unhappy affair--"
"But why do we talk of price?" interposed Mr. Basket briskly,
"seeing that the loss, if loss it be, is nothing short of
irreparable? To my mind there is something--er--"
"Desecrating," suggested the Doctor.
"Quite so--desecrating--in this reduction of our poor friend to
pounds, shillings, and pence."
"Nevertheless it is usual to name a sum," the Chief Constable assured
them. "Shall we say fifty pounds?" Mr. Basket took off his
spectacles and wiped them with a trembling hand.
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