enemies of the Admiralty Court, and Sir John of the frosty eyebrows and
Abernethy manner was bracketed with, but before, Rutherford Gilbert
among nerve-specialists.

At the Club-house afterwards the lawyers renewed their squabble over a
tangled collision case, and the doctors as naturally compared
professional matters.

'Lies--all lies,' said Sir John, when Gilbert had told him Conroy's
trouble. '_Post hoc, propter hoc_. The man or woman who drugs is _ipso
facto_ a liar. You've no imagination.'

''Pity you haven't a little--occasionally.'

'I have believed a certain type of patient in my time. It's always the
same. For reasons not given in the consulting-room they take to the
drug. Certain symptoms follow. They will swear to you, and believe it,
that they took the drug to mask the symptoms. What does your man use?
Najdolene? I thought so. I had practically the duplicate of your case
last Thursday. Same old Najdolene--same old lie.'

'Tell me the symptoms, and I'll draw my own inferences, Johnnie.'

'Symptoms! The girl was rank poisoned with Najdolene. Ramping, stamping
possession. Gad, I thought she'd have the chandelier down.'

'Mine came unstuck too, and he has the physique of a bull,' said
Gilbert. 'What delusions had yours?'

'Faces--faces with mildew on them. In any other walk of life we'd call