As soon as the general stupefaction was allayed, the general incredulity asserted itself as a matter of course. The man who first declared that “seeing” was “believing” laid his finger (whether he knew it himself or not) on one of the fundamental follies of humanity. The easiest of all evidence to receive is the evidence that requires no other judgment to decide on it than the judgment of the eye--and it will be, on that account, the evidence which humanity is most ready to credit, as long as humanity lasts. The eyes of every body looked at Geoffrey; and the judgment of every body decided, on the evidence there visible, that the surgeon must be wrong. Lady Lundie herself (disturbed over her dinner invitations) led the general protest. “Mr. Delamayn in broken health!” she exclaimed, appealing to the better sense of her eminent medical guest. “Really, now, you can’t expect us to believe that!” Stung into action for the second time by the startling assertion of which he had been made the subject, Geoffrey rose, and looked the surgeon, steadily and insolently, straight in the face. “Do you mean what you say?” he asked. “Yes.” “You point me out before all these people--” “One moment, Mr. Delamayn. I admit that I may have been wrong in directing the general attention to you. You have a right to complain of my having answered too publicly the public challenge offered to me by your friends. I apologize for having done that. But I don’t retract a single word of what I have said on the subject of your health.” “You stick to it that I’m a broken-down man?” “I do.” “I wish you were twenty years younger, Sir!” “Why?” “I’d ask you to step out on the lawn there and I’d show you whether I’m a broken-down man or not.” Lady Lundie looked at her brother-in-law. Sir Patrick instantly interfered. “Mr. Delamayn,” he said, “you were invited here in the character of a gentleman, and you are a guest in a lady’s house.” “No! no!” said the surgeon, good humoredly. “Mr. Delamayn is using a strong argument, Sir Patrick--and that is all. If I _were_ twenty years younger,” he went on, addressing himself to Geoffrey, “and if I _did_ step out on the lawn with you, the result wouldn’t affect the question between us in the least. I don’t say that the violent bodily exercises in which you are famous have damaged your muscular power. I assert that they have damaged your vital power. In what particular way they have affected it I don’t consider myself bound to tell you. I simply give you a warning, as a matter of common humanity. You will do well to be content with the success you have already achieved in the field of athletic pursuits, and to alter your mode of life for the future. Accept my excuses, once more, for having said this publicly instead of privately--and don’t forget my warning.” He turned to move away to another part of the room. Geoffrey fairly forced him to return to the subject.