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Kilda-road, had stuck up and robbed some twenty of the merchants and traders on their way to Melbourne, including my friend John G. Foxton. The Anti-Transportation League, then some years in existence, held a great meeting, at which a large committee was appointed, and was enjoined to find an effective mode of dealing with this novel form of evil.
Foxton has the highest regard for him professionally, and I'm told he doctors people for miles around. Yet he lives the life of a recluse. An old woman comes by day to prepare his meals, and tidy the house and shop. His sole relaxation is an hour of an evening in the village inn, his visits there being uninterrupted since the murder. He was there on the night of the murder, too.
Foxton doesn't compound his own prescriptions, does he?" "No. I get 'em made up at Siddle's." "Ah. These country chemists often keep drugs in stock till they deteriorate, or even set up chemical changes. Have you the bottles?" "Yes. But what the " "Anything left in them?" "The last two are half full. Still " "What a cross-grained chap you are?
"Water?" wheezed Tomlin indignantly. "Water?" "Well, no offense. I can't taste anything. I believe I could swallow dope and not feel it on my tongue." "You do look bad, an' no mistake, Fred," agreed Hobbs. "Are you vettin' yerself? Don't. Every man to his trade, sez I. Give Dr. Foxton a call." "I'm taking his medicine regular. Perhaps I need a change."
You found the body, you know. Besides, you may be the only person who can give evidence of identity. In fact, you and the doctor will be the only witnesses called." "Dr. Foxton?" "Yes." "Has he made a post-mortem?" "He is doing so now. You see, there is clear indication that this unfortunate lady was struck a heavy blow, perhaps killed, before she was put in the river." "Good Heavens!
If you are unable or unwilling to order the removal of the body, I'll telegraph to the chief of police at Knolesworth, and ask him to act. Further, I shall request Dr. Foxton to examine the poor lady's injuries. It strikes me as a monstrous proceeding that you should attempt to record my evidence at this moment, and I refuse to become a party to it."
"The Popiad" and "The Curliad" were rapidly huddled together and placed upon the market. Close upon the heels of these publications came "The Female Dunciad," containing beside the "Metamorphosis of P. into a Stinging Nettle" by Mr. Foxton, a novel called "Irish Artifice; or, the History of Clarina" by Mrs. Eliza Haywood.
"Three o'clock, in the club-room of the Hare and Hounds." "Will that fellow, Grant, be there?" "Rather. Dr. Foxton warned him yesterday." "Good! What about Doris Martin? Will she be a witness?" "Not to-day." They were entering the village, and could see down the long, wide slope of the hill. Grant had just come into sight at its foot.
Six years later he made his second expedition to Germany, in the company of two friends, a Mr. Foxton who is made a butt and the faithful Neuberg. Of this journey, undertaken with a more exclusively business purpose, and accomplished with greater dispatch, there are fewer notes, the substance of which may be here anticipated.
Foxton cannot understand your illness. He says you are wiry, and have a strong constitution." "Dr. Foxton jolly near knocked me up," said Elkin. "I took his medicine till I was sick as a cat." "But you took spirits, too." "That's nothing fresh. Anyhow, I've dropped both, and am picking up every hour." "Since when?" "Since yesterday morning, if you want to know." "I do. I'm most interested. Dr.
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