'Of course _not_ a steamer in your case, but a long railway journey the next time you think it will trouble you. It sounds absurd, but--' 'I'd try anything. I nearly have,' Conroy sighed. 'Nonsense! I've given you a tonic that will clear _that_ notion from your head. Give the train a chance, and don't begin the journey by bucking yourself up with tabloids. Take them along, but hold them in reserve--in reserve.' 'D'you think I've self-control enough, after what you've heard?' said Conroy. Dr. Gilbert smiled. 'Yes. After what I've seen,' he glanced round the room, 'I have no hesitation in saying you have quite as much self-control as many other people. I'll write you later about your journey. Meantime, the tonic,' and he gave some general directions before Conroy left. An hour later Dr. Gilbert hurried to the links, where the others of his regular week-end game awaited him. It was a rigid round, played as usual at the trot, for the tension of the week lay as heavy on the two King's Counsels and Sir John Chartres as on Gilbert. The lawyers were old enemies of the Admiralty Court, and Sir John of the frosty eyebrows and Abernethy manner was bracketed with, but before, Rutherford Gilbert among nerve-specialists. At the Club-house afterwards the lawyers renewed their squabble over a tangled collision case, and the doctors as naturally compared professional matters. 'Lies--all lies,' said Sir John, when Gilbert had told him Conroy's trouble. '_Post hoc, propter hoc_. The man or woman who drugs is _ipso facto_ a liar. You've no imagination.' ''Pity you haven't a little--occasionally.' 'I have believed a certain type of patient in my time. It's always the same. For reasons not given in the consulting-room they take to the drug. Certain symptoms follow. They will swear to you, and believe it, that they took the drug to mask the symptoms. What does your man use? Najdolene? I thought so. I had practically the duplicate of your case last Thursday. Same old Najdolene--same old lie.' 'Tell me the symptoms, and I'll draw my own inferences, Johnnie.' 'Symptoms! The girl was rank poisoned with Najdolene. Ramping, stamping possession. Gad, I thought she'd have the chandelier down.' 'Mine came unstuck too, and he has the physique of a bull,' said Gilbert. 'What delusions had yours?' 'Faces--faces with mildew on them. In any other walk of life we'd call it the Horrors. She told me, of course, she took the drugs to mask the faces. _Post hoc, propter hoc_ again. All liars!' 'What's that?' said the senior K.C. quickly. 'Sounds professional.' 'Go away! Not for you, Sandy.' Sir John turned a shoulder against him and walked with Gilbert in the chill evening. To Conroy in his chambers came, one week later, this letter: