the tree. Laugh naturally, now!'

ROBERTS, with a staccato groan, which he tries to make pass for a
laugh: 'And then I ran after the man--' He stops, and regards Mr.
Bemis with a ghastly stare.

MRS. CRASHAW: 'What is the matter with you, Edward? Are you sick?'

WILLIS: 'Sick? No! Can't you see that he can't get over the joke
of the thing? It's killing him.' To Roberts: 'Brace up, old man!
You're doing it splendidly.'

ROBERTS, hopelessly: 'And then the other man--the man that had
robbed me--the man that I had pursued--ugh!'

WILLIS: 'Well, it is too much for him. I shall have to tell it
myself, I see.'

ROBERTS, making a wild effort to command himself: 'And so--so--this
man--man--ma--'

WILLIS: 'Oh, good Lord--' Dr. Lawton suddenly appears from the
anteroom and confronts him. 'Oh, the devil!'

LAWTON, folding his arms, and fixing his eyes upon him: 'Which
means that you forgot I was coming.'

WILLIS: 'Doctor, you read a man's symptoms at a glance.'

LAWTON: 'Yes; and I can see that you are in a bad way, Mr.