Mr. Bellingham laughed rather shamefacedly. "I'm afraid I did lose my
temper," he said; "but I am an impulsive old fellow, Doctor, and when
I'm put out I'm apt to speak my mind--a little too bluntly, perhaps."

"And audibly," his daughter added. "Do you know that Doctor Berkeley was
reduced to the necessity of stopping his ears?" She glanced at me, as
she spoke, with something like a twinkle in her solemn grey eyes.

"Did I shout?" Mr. Bellingham asked, not very contritely, I thought,
though he added: "I'm very sorry, my dear; but it won't happen again. I
think we've seen the last of that good gentleman."

"I am sure I hope so," she rejoined, adding: "And now I will leave you
to your talk; I shall be in the next room if you should want me."

I opened the door for her, and when she had passed out with a stiff
little bow I seated myself by the bedside and resumed the consultation.
It was evidently a case of nervous breakdown, to which the cab accident
had, no doubt, contributed. As to the other antecedents, they were no
concern of mine, though Mr. Bellingham seemed to think otherwise, for he
resumed: "That cab business was the last straw, you know, and it
finished me off, but I have been going down the hill for a long time.
I've had a lot of trouble during the last two years. But I suppose I
oughtn't to pester you with the details of my personal affairs."

"Anything that bears on your present state of health is of interest to
me if you don't mind telling it," I said.

"Mind!" he exclaimed. "Did you ever meet an invalid who didn't enjoy