The orderly gave the water, but, none the less, called his officer. Meanwhile Hagan, with shut eyes, summoned to his aid all medical knowledge, real and spurious, that had ever crossed his path of life. The rôle he had assigned to himself was extremely difficult. Whatever else might be imaginary, the beads of perspiration bedewing his forehead were certainly genuine enough. In order to fool a man successfully one requires to know something of his mental attitude towards the subject in hand. What a medico’s mind might contain, or what pitfalls it was necessary to beware of in dealing with him, were points that suddenly assailed the wretched Tim with terrifying force. In fact, had the R.A.M.C. officer not arrived within a few moments, it is probable that fear of superior wisdom would have driven the schemer forth from the building. ‘Well, my man, what is the matter?’ asked the officer, feeling his patient’s pulse. ‘Fainted, hey?’ ‘Yes, sir,’ asserted the orderly. ‘Fell into my arms.’ Hagan, opening his eyes slowly, shook his head from side to side, noisily blew out his cheeks, and ‘marked time.’ Adjusting a stethoscope, the officer examined his chest, grunted, and ordered his temperature to be taken. That the result would be negative Hagan knew only too well. Consequently, it seemed obvious that it behoved him to make the next move. ‘Terrible buzzin’ in me head, sor,’ he breathed. ‘Ah--quite so. Rest and light diet. Overstrain. Perhaps you will be all right again by morning.’ Emboldened by an initiatory success, Hagan ventured upon driving the nail still deeper. ‘Lost all feelin’s in me legs, sor,’ he added, with a groan. ‘It--er--has been comin’ on, sor, for a week; but it wasn’t loikin’ to go sick I was.’ The medico, with newly awakened interest, bent his eyes upon the man’s face and silently observed the movements of his rolling head and eyes. Hagan, gradually ceasing his gyrations, at length opened his eyes and met the doctor’s absorbed gaze. It was at that moment--had he but known it--that he sorely needed all the knowledge available regarding his interrogator. The latter was by nature a silent man, but that did not interfere with his power of absorbing details and piecing them together with uncanny accuracy. ‘A pin, sir?’ suggested the orderly. ‘What for?’ asked the officer blandly. ‘Thought, perhaps, you wanted to test his feelings, sir,’ explained the zealot. ‘No--er--that is, not to-night,’ answered the officer, suppressing a half-smile beneath his moustache. ‘We will see what a night’s rest can do.’