"That’s right," said the poor fellow; "kill him, and I’ll leave you all my money. He sat on the end of my bed last night--he won’t let me alone. Kill him now he’s not looking." Jim seized the cue and slashed about under the table with it. "There--I’ve done it. I’ve cut his head off." "Oh, thank you, thank you!" cried Mr Richards, bursting into tears. "You shall have every penny of my money." They left him crying quietly for joy. In a corner of the room a saturnine-looking gentleman was standing stock still with his eyes closed. "Hullo!" said Jim, "I’ve not seen this one before. Who is he?" "A new patient--a clergyman," replied Hughes; "he thinks he’s dead. Comes to life for his meals, though." Jim laughed--the careless laugh of thoughtless youth--but the next moment his face became grave. He felt very much for these afflicted souls, and they seemed to know it, for in their half-witted way they loved "Mr James." After passing through several corridors, Jim and Hughes arrived at a room that was provided with a thick door in which was a grille of the old-fashioned kind. Within could be seen a red-faced, burly man, his clothing much disarranged, and his eyes wildly gleaming. A stalwart attendant, with a bandage round his neck, was standing by, watching the occupant of the padded room through the little bars of the grille. "I’ll go in and have a chat with him," said Jim. "You’d better not, sir," returned Hughes; "you’ll take your life in your hands if you do." "Nonsense!" cried Jim. "Open the door, Smith!" The attendant Smith--he who had been so unfortunate as to earn the major’s ill-will--shot back the bolt, and, as Jim stepped into the cell, made haste to secure the door behind him. The patient fixed a glare of bovine ferocity on his caller as Jim advanced towards him. "Morning, major! Men pretty fit this morning?" The major had been about to hurl himself at the young fellow when Jim’s words stirred an old memory in his inflamed brain. "What’s that to you--who are you?" he growled. "The officer commanding the expedition," rapped out Jim. The major’s manner changed on the instant. "The men are as well as can be expected, sir, considering the beastly bad water. Three more down with enteric to-day." "Dear--dear!" exclaimed Jim, "that’s bad. Well, major, we must hope for the best--hope for the best. And how are you yourself?" "I think I’ve got a touch of the sun, sir," said the major, "but I daresay it’ll pass off. I’ve been feeling queer up here for several days now," he added, touching his forehead. "What you want, major," said Jim, "is a good sound sleep. You’re looking overworked. Now just you lie down on your mattress yonder and have a nap. You’ve been doing very well lately, major, and I shall mention you in my despatches." The poor madman’s face glowed with delight. "I’m very much obliged to you, sir," he said, with a world of gratitude in his voice.