Six
o'clock
Excess had not injured a splendid constitution as yet . But Saxham knew that by-and-by ... What did he care ? He pulled off his soiled , untidy garments , and soused his aching head in the cold , fresh water , and bathed and changed . Six o'clock struck , and found Dr. Owen Saxham reclothed and in his right mind , if a little haggard about the eyes and twitchy about the mouth , and sitting calmly waiting for patients in the respectably-appointed consulting-room of De Boursy-Williams , M.D. , F.R.C.S. Lond . Usually he sat in the adjoining study , near enough to the carefully-curtained door to hear the patient describe in the artless vernacular of the ignorant , or the more cultivated phraseology of the educated , the symptoms , his or hers . Because the cultured man of science , the real M.D. of Cambridge University and owner of those other letters of attainment , was the drunken wastrel who had sunk low enough to serve as the impostor 's ghost . If G. de Boursy-Williams , of all those lying capitals , were a member of the London Pharmaceutical Society and properly-qualified dentist , which perhaps might be the case , he certainly possessed no other claim upon the confidence of his fellow-creatures , sick or well .