Whilst I still sat brooding a man was shown into the room, a smiling
little black-coated person, in whom I recognised the managing clerk of
the firm of solicitors that had conducted the case for the prosecution.

"Not done with your troubles yet, Dr. Therne, I fear," he said
cheerfully; "out of the criminal wood into the civil swamp," and he
laughed as he handed me a paper.

"What is this?" I asked.

"Statement of claim in the case of Colford v. Therne; damages laid at
10,000 pounds, which, I daresay, you will agree is not too much for the
loss of a young wife. You see, doctor, Sir Thomas is downright wild with
you, and so are all the late lady's people. As he can't lock you up,
he intends to ruin you by means of an action. If he had listened to me,
that is what he would have begun with, leaving the criminal law alone.
It's a nasty treacherous thing is the criminal law, and you can't be
sure of your man however black things may look against him. I never
thought they could convict you, doctor, never; for, as the old judge
said, you see it is quite unusual to prosecute criminally in cases of
this nature, and the jury won't send a man to jail for a little mistake
of the sort. But they will 'cop' you in damages, a thousand or fifteen
hundred, and then the best thing that you can do will be to go bankrupt,
or perhaps you had better clear before the trial comes on."

I groaned aloud, but the little man went on cheerfully:--

"Same solicitors, I suppose? I'll take the other things to them so as
not to bother you more than I can help. Good-afternoon; I'm downright