and let it go.

"In perfect health, as usual," he announced grimly.

"Ah, but you cannot be sure!" Mr. Fentolin protested. "My tongue,
if you please."

He put it out.

"Excellent!"

"We must make quite certain," Mr. Fentolin continued. "There are
so many people who would miss me. My place in the world would not
be easily filed. Undo my waistcoat, Sarson. Feel my heart, please.
Feel carefully. I can see the end of your stethoscope in your
pocket. Don't scamp it. I fancied this morning, when I was lying
here alone, that there was something almost like a palpitation--a
quicker beat. Be very careful, Sarson. Now."

The doctor made his examination with impassive face. Then he
stepped back.

"There is no change in your condition, Mr. Fentolin," he announced.
"The palpitation you spoke of is a mistake. You are in perfect
health."

Mr. Fentolin sighed gently.

"Then," he said, "I will now amuse myself by a gentle ride down to
the Tower. You are entirely satisfied, Sarson? You are keeping