I declare to you, old chap, that I walked back home with a lighter gait than for fully three months past. A firm of money-lenders were bothering me over a little loan, and I wanted money to settle with them. Therefore I had raised no objection to selling my little tube of serum for five hundred of "the best and brightest."
I saw my patients as usual, and at the appointed hour I had a stiff peg of whisky and returned to Queen's Gate.
In the hall I met the Captain, who accompanied me to his father's room, and watched my rather fussy investigations in silence.
I wondered whether he entertained any suspicion.
My attitude was, as before, one of cheerful optimism. The patient was, I saw, considerably worse than in the morning. He was taking his mixture regularly, but I fear it was not calculated to do him very much good. A glass of water would have been equally efficacious.
The Captain called me outside into the corridor and suggested that a second medical man should be called into consultation.
"Certainly," I said. "I have not the
