"Well, it was this way," Heritage began, eagerly. His eyes were gleaming now, his whole aspect was changed. "I was poor and struggling, but I had a grand future before me. There was a patient of mine, a rich man, who had a deadly throat trouble. And he was going to leave me all his money if I cured him. He told me he had made a will to that effect, and he had done so. And I was in direst straits for some ready cash. When I came to operate I used an electric light, a powerful light--you know what I mean. The operation failed and my patient died. The operation failed because the electric light went out at a critical time. "People said it was a great misfortune for me, because I was on the threshold of a new discovery which would have made my name. Nothing of the kind. I deliberately cut the positive wire of the electric light so that I should fail, and so that my patient might die and I might get all his money at once. And he did die, and nobody suspected me--nobody could possibly have found me out. Then I went mad and they put me under Bell's care. I should have got well, only he gave up his practice and drifted into the world again. My good, kind friend Reginald Henson heard of my case; he interested some people in me and placed me where I am at present." "So Reginald Henson knows all about it?" Bell asked, drily. "My dear fellow, he is the best friend I have in the world. He was most interested in my case. I have gone over it with him a hundred times. I showed him exactly how it was done. And now you know why I loathe the electric light. When it shines in my eyes it maddens me; it brings back to me the recollection of that dreadful time, it causes me to--" "Heritage," Bell said, sternly, "close your eyes at once, and be silent." The patient obeyed instantly. He had not forgotten the old habit of obedience. When he opened his eyes again at length he looked round him in a foolish, shamefaced manner. "I--I am afraid I have been rambling," he muttered. "Pray don't notice me, Bell; if you are as good a fellow as you used to be, come and see me again. I'm tired now." Bell gave the desired assurance, and he and Cross left the room together. "Any sort of truth in what he has been saying?" asked the latter. "Very little," Bell replied. "Heritage is an exceedingly clever fellow who has not yet recovered from a bad breakdown some years ago. I had nearly cured him at one time, but he seems to have lapsed into bad ways again. Some day, when I have time, I shall take up his case once more." "Did he operate, or try some new throat cure?"