As he watched the tall figure of the doctor sauntering out of the room, Hagan experienced a sensation of acute alarm. In the presence of the calm assurance of this man of few words he felt that he had slipped up somewhere. But where? Loss of all feeling in the legs was surely a good effort! Glancing at the orderly, he noticed the man smiling in a peculiar manner as his officer disappeared from sight. An orderly’s knowledge has its limitations, even if a doctor’s has not. The more thought he gave to it the more suspicious did he feel, and a guilty conscience did not assist matters. Soup and biscuits were served out for supper. Tim Hagan could have absorbed both with relish. He felt, however, that such diet might not be good for buzzing in the head--and said so. The night orderly, indifferent to arguments, deposited the food on a box by his side and departed. The fact, however, that all the articles of diet had disappeared by morning was by no means lost upon the day orderly when he returned to duty at the hour of breakfast. During the silent watches of the night Hagan had time to think of many things. He decided that he did not like the look of the medical officer, nor, indeed, did he know what to make of the orderly. Could he have fought them hand to hand, he would have known exactly where he was. In this subtle, silent contest of brains he was beginning to writhe against an invisible foe which seemed to be closing in upon him more surely with every tick of his watch. A change of diagnosis seemed advisable. But, with his scanty repertoire of diseases, the point was none too easy. In fact, when the officer unexpectedly stood by his side, he was still so undecided, that closed eyes and immobility seemed the path of least resistance. ‘Well, Private Hagan, how are you this morning?’ inquired the officer, shaking him by the shoulder. What the answer to the question was Timothy did not know. He conceded a point, however, by opening his eyes. The question being repeated with emphasis, an inspiration gripped him. In a flash his line of country seemed to open out before him. The dizziness in the head had led to complications. ‘Carn’t hear,’ he blurted. ‘Ah!’ commented the persecutor, raising his eyebrows. ‘Deaf, are you? That’s bad.’ Perceptibly dropping his voice, he studied his victim’s face. ‘H’m--I wonder what degree of deafness. Which is the worst ear?’ With praiseworthy presence of mind, Hagan resisted the impulse to answer. Staring blankly at the ceiling, he made no sign. Stepping a pace nearer, the officer spoke louder. Hagan still made no voluntary response, but the perspiration upon his face attested to the physical effort.