"Hullo, Major, have you got the gout again?" I asked jocosely.

"No, doctor; at least that pompous old beggar, Bell, says I haven't.
My leg has been so confoundedly painful and stiff for the last few days
that I went to see him this morning, but he told me that it was only a
touch of rheumatism, and gave me some stuff to rub it with."

"Oh, and did he look at your leg?"

"Not he. He says that he can tell what my ailments are with the width of
the street between us."

"Indeed," I said, and some other men coming in the matter dropped.

Four days later I was in the club at the same hour, and again Major
Selby entered. This time he walked with considerable difficulty, and
I noticed an expression of pain and _malaise_ upon his rubicund
countenance. He ordered a whisky and soda from the servant, and then sat
down near me.

"Rheumatism no better, Major?" I asked.

"No, I went to see old Bell about it again yesterday, but he pooh-poohs
it and tells me to go on rubbing in the liniment and get the footman to
help when I am tired. Well, I obeyed orders, but it hasn't done me much
good, and how the deuce rheumatism can give a fellow a bruise on the
leg, I don't know."

"A bruise on the leg?" I said astonished.