"We got one here. There's a big spare room behind the shop. Kind of a store-room it was, and the Mercuries have fitted it up as a gymnasier and athletic club. Only they're dead ones and don't use it much no more. Got kind of a fall this afternoon, didn't you, Doc?" "What makes you think that?" "That eye you got. She'll be a beaut to-morrow--skin's broke too. A bit of nice raw beefsteak clapped on it right now would do the world and all for it." "Oh, it is of no consequence--" "You think nothing about your body is consequence, Doc, that only your mind counts, and that's just where you make your mistake. Your body's got to carry your mind around, and if it lays down on you, what--" "But I have no intention of letting my body lie down on me, as you put it, Mr. Klinker. My health is sound, my constitution--" "Forget it, Doc. Can't I look at you and see with my own eyes? You're committing slow suicide by over-work. That's what it is." "As it happens, I am doing nothing of the sort. I have been working exactly this way for twelve years." "Then all the bigger is the overdue bill nature's got against you, and when she does hit you she'll hit to kill. Where'll your mind and your studies be when we've planted your body down under the sod?" Mr. Queed made no reply. After a moment, preparing to rise, he said: "I am obliged to you for that drink. It is rather remarkable--" "Headache all gone, hey?" "Almost entirely. I wish you would give me the name of the medicine. I will make a memorandum--" "Nix," said Klinker. "Nix? Nux I have heard of, but ..." "Hold on," laughed Klinker, as he saw Queed preparing to enter Nix in his note-book. "That ain't the name of it, and I ain't going to give it to you. Why, that slop only covers up the trouble, Doc--does more harm than good in the long run. You got to go deeper and take away the cause. Come back here and I'll show you your real medicine." "I'm afraid--" "Aw, don't flash that open-faced clock of yours on me. That's your trouble, Doc--matching seconds against your studies. It won't take a minute, and you can catch it up eating supper faster if you feel you got to." Queed, curious, as well as decidedly impressed by Klinker's sure knowledge in a field where he was totally ignorant, was persuaded. The two groped their way down a long dark passage at the rear of the shop, and into a large room like a cavern. Klinker lit a flaring gas-jet and made a gesture. "The Mercury Athletic Club gymnasier and sporting-room." It was a basement room, with two iron-grated windows at the back. Two walls were lined with stout shelves, partially filled with boxes. The remaining space, including wall-space, was occupied by the most curious and puzzling contrivances that Queed had ever seen. Out of the glut of enigmas there was but one thing--a large mattress upon the floor--that he could recognize without a diagram. "Your caretaker sleeps here, I perceive." Klinker laughed. "Look around you, Doc. Take a good gaze."