most diabolically wicked places which are to be found on the Continent—nothing of that kind jars on me.
All this, apropos of Nanson's voice.
A strong desire to know him was soon satisfied by a mutual friend visiting at the Casino, and, curiously enough, he took a great fancy to me, so much so, that, as we were both without travelling companions, he asked me to be his guest at the Hôtel de Paris, in which he was staying, for the last three days of my short visit to the gamblers' paradise.
You may be certain I accepted the invitation very promptly, and hoped that, in the future, something substantial in the way of financial increment might be the outcome of the new friendship struck up in this unexpected manner. We went about together constantly during the next three days, and in that time I made a discovery, or at least felt certain that I had.
Sir Richard Nanson was in the early stage of that grim and fatal disease, G.P.I., as we call it. General Paralysis of the Insane being the full name.
The first stage of this affection, which is much more common than folks imagine, is very often one of exaltation, during which the
