And how's Mont Blanc? Or is it the Killarney
Lakes this time, or maybe the Sphinx that I
should inquire for, eh?''

``Guess again,'' laughed Calderwell, throwing
off his heavy coat and settling himself comfortably
in the inviting-looking morris chair his
friend pulled forward.

``Sha'n't do it,'' retorted Arkwright, with a
smile. ``I never gamble on palpable uncertainties,
except for a chance throw or two, as I gave
a minute ago. Your movements are altogether
too erratic, and too far-reaching, for ordinary
mortals to keep track of.''

``Well, maybe you're right,'' grinned Calderwell,
appreciatively. ``Anyhow, you would have
lost this time, sure thing, for I've been working.''

``Seen the doctor yet?'' queried Arkwright,
coolly, pushing the cigars across the table.

``Thanks--for both,'' sniffed Calderwell, with
a reproachful glance, helping himself. ``Your
good judgment in some matters is still unimpaired,
I see,'' he observed, tapping the little gilded band
which had told him the cigar was an old favorite.
``As to other matters, however,--you're wrong
again, my friend, in your surmise. I am not sick,