This was a new fact. It shook my confidence in my diagnosis very
considerably, and inclined me to reconsider my suspicions. If Mr. Weiss
was lying to me, he now had me at a decided disadvantage.

"What do you think?" he asked. "Is it possible that this can be sleeping
sickness?"

"I should not like to say that it is impossible," I replied. "The
disease is practically unknown to me. I have never practised out of
England and have had no occasion to study it. Until I have looked the
subject up, I should not be in a position to give an opinion. Of course,
if I could see Mr. Graves in one of what we may call his 'lucid
intervals' I should be able to form a better idea. Do you think that
could be managed?"

"It might. I see the importance of it and will certainly do my best; but
he is a difficult man; a very difficult man. I sincerely hope it is not
sleeping sickness."

"Why?"

"Because--as I understood from him--that disease is invariably fatal,
sooner or later. There seem to be no cure. Do you think you will be able
to decide when you see him again?"

"I hope so," I replied. "I shall look up the authorities and see exactly
what the symptoms are--that is, so far as they are known; but my
impression is that there is very little information available."

"And in the meantime?"