But it seemed to me that I gave the answer independently of my own
volition. The words were uttered almost before I knew.

"It is very good of you."

"Not at all," I said. "I have made no plans, and therefore nothing
will be disarranged. Further, I count it an honor; and, moreover, your
'case'--pardon the word--interests me deeply. Where do you wish to
go?"

"To Bruges, of course."

He seemed a little surprised that I should ask the question.

"Bruges," he went on, "that dear and wonderful old city of Flanders,
is the place of my birth. You have visited it?"

"No," I said, "but I have often heard that it is the most picturesque
city in Europe, and I should like to see it awfully."

"There is nothing in the world like Bruges," he said. "Bruges the Dead
they call it; a fit spot in which to die."

"If you talk like that I shall reconsider my decision."

"Pardon, pardon!" he laughed, suddenly wearing an appearance of
gaiety. "I am happier now. When can we go? To-morrow? Let it be
to-morrow."

"Impossible," I said. "The idea of a man whose thigh was broken less