consideration at our next meeting. What is it that you want my opinion
on?"

"The fact is," I said, "I am in a rather awkward dilemma, and I want you
to tell me what you think I ought to do."

Thorndyke paused in the act of refilling my cup and glanced at me with
unmistakable anxiety.

"Nothing of an unpleasant nature, I hope," said he.

"No, no; nothing of that kind," I answered with a smile as I interpreted
the euphemism; for "something unpleasant," in the case of a young and
reasonably presentable medical man is ordinarily the equivalent of
trouble with the female of his species. "It is nothing that concerns me
personally at all," I continued; "it is a question of professional
responsibility. But I had better give you an account of the affair in a
complete narrative, as I know that you like to have your data in a
regular and consecutive order."

Thereupon I proceeded to relate the history of my visit to the
mysterious Mr. Graves, not omitting any single circumstance or detail
that I could recollect.

Thorndyke listened from the very beginning of my story with the closest
attention. His face was the most impassive that I have ever seen;
ordinarily as inscrutable as a bronze mask; but to me, who knew him
intimately, there was a certain something--a change of colour, perhaps,
or an additional sparkle of the eye--that told me when his curious
passion for investigation was fully aroused. And now, as I told him of