I had been
seated a very short time only, when the quick, consequential step, and
sharp, cracked voice of Dr Lee sounded along the passage; and after a
momentary pause at the bar, his round, smirking, good-humoured,
knavish face looked in at the parlour-door, where, seeing me alone, he
winked with uncommon expression, and said aloud: 'A prime fire in the
smoking-room, I see; I shall treat myself to a whiff there presently.'
This said, the shining face vanished, in order, I doubted not, that
its owner might confer with the young girl who had been inquiring for
him. This Lee, I must observe, had no legal right to the prefix of
doctor tacked to his name. He was merely a peripatetic quack-salver
and vender of infallible medicines, who, having wielded the pestle in
an apothecary's shop for some years during his youth, had acquired a
little skill in the use of drugs, and could open a vein or draw a
tooth with considerable dexterity. He had a large, but not, I think,
very remunerative practice amongst the poaching, deer-stealing,
smuggling community of those parts, to whom it was of vital importance
that the hurts received in their desperate pursuits should be tended
by some one not inclined to babble of the number, circumstances, or
whereabouts of his patients.
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