"You haven't dragged me out. I heard you were alone, so I just dropped
in for a few minutes' gossip."

"That is really kind of you," he said heartily. "But I'm afraid you'll
find me rather poor company. A man who is full of his own highly
disagreeable affairs is not a desirable companion."

"You mustn't let me disturb you if you'd rather be alone," said I, with
a sudden fear that I was intruding.

"Oh, you won't disturb me," he replied; adding, with a laugh: "It's
more likely to be the other way about. In fact, if I were not afraid of
boring you to death I would ask you to let me talk my difficulties over
with you."

"You won't bore me," I said. "It is generally interesting to share
another man's experiences without their inconveniences. 'The proper
study of mankind is--man,' you know, especially to a doctor."

Mr. Bellingham chuckled grimly. "You make me feel like a microbe," he
said. "However, if you would care to take a peep at me through your
microscope, I will crawl on to the stage for your inspection, though it
is not _my_ actions that furnish the materials for your psychological
studies. I am only a passive agent. It is my poor brother who is the
_Deus ex machina_, who, from his unknown grave, as I fear, pulls the
strings of this infernal puppet-show."

He paused, and for a space gazed thoughtfully into the grate as if he
had forgotten my presence. At length he looked up, and resumed: