John Huish drew a long breath, and the pupils of his eyes contracted as he said quietly: "Why, doctor, I told you that I had been on the Continent, and only returned two days ago." "Yes; of course. We know--fashionable fibs: Out of town; not at home, etcetera, etcetera." "My dear doctor," said Huish, fidgeting slightly in his seat, "I have always made it a practice to try and be honest in my statements. I tell you I only came back two days ago." "That be hanged, John Huish!" cried the doctor. "Why, you were here a fortnight ago yesterday." "Nonsense," cried Huish excitedly. "How absurd!" "Absurd? Hang it, boy! do you think I'm mad? Here is the entry," he continued, reading. "Seventh, John Huish, Nervous fit-- over-excitement--old bite of dog--bad dreams--dread of hydrophobia. Prescribed, um--um--um--etcetera, etcetera. Now then, what do you say to that?" "You were dreaming," said Huish. "Dreaming?" said the doctor, laughing. "What! that you--here, stop a moment." He rang the bell. "Ask Daniel yourself when you were here last." "What nonsense!" said Huish, growing agitated. Then as the door opened, "Daniel," he said quietly, "when was I here last?" "Yesterday fortnight, sir," said the man promptly. "That will do, Daniel!" and the attendant retired as Huish sank back in his chair, gazing straight before him in a strange, vacant manner. "What a fool I am!" muttered the doctor. "I've led him on to it again. Hang it! shall I never understand my profession?" "I'll go now," said Huish drearily, as he rose; but Dr Stonor pressed him back in his seat. "No, no; sit still a few minutes," he said quietly. "I--I thought it was gone," said Huish; "and life seemed so bright and happy on ahead. Doctor, I've never confessed, even to you, what I have suffered from all this. I have felt horrible at times. The devil has tempted me to do the most dreadful things." "Poor devil!" said the doctor. "What a broad back he must have to bear all that the silly world lays upon it!" "You laugh. Tell me, what does it mean? How is it? Do I do things in my sleep, or when I am waking, and then do they pass completely away from my memory? Tell me truly, and let me know the worst. Am I going to lose my reason?" "No, no, no!" cried the doctor. "Absurd! It is a want of tone in the nerves--a little absence of mind. The liver is sluggish, and from its stoppage the brain gets affected." "Yes; that is what I feared," cried Huish excitedly. "Not as you mean, my dear boy," cried the doctor. "When we say the brain is affected, we don't always mean madness. What nonsense! The brain is affected when there are bad headaches--a little congestion, you know. These fits of absence are nothing more."