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 Hugh Tankerville is, old chap," he replied with a laugh. "Is that all?"

"Yes! I think that is all. It embraces a very vast section of my life—its future. But I don't know why you should put me to such rigorous catechism, Mark. I am ever so glad that you came, and it will do me more good than all the medicines in the world."

"Nothing will do you good, Girlie," I said earnestly, "except one thing."

"What is that?"

"To talk to me—if only at random—of Princess Neit-akrit." He did not say anything. His face became, if possible, even more pale, more careworn than before. I did not think that he was offended with my seeming importunity, and I continued:

"Girlie, you and I have gone through a great deal together: we nearly starved side by side in the desert, not so very long ago. We can therefore hardly measure our intercourse together by the same standard as other men. Besides being your friend, I am also a medical man, and …"

"And you would be interested to see before you, lying bare, as the dissected body underneath your scalpel, all the follies, the madness, the cowardice of which a fellow-man's brain is capable. It is not a pleasant sight, Mark, believe me; you are my friend—you had best not try to see."

"You misunderstand, Girlie; I have no wish to cause you needless pain by forcing a confidence which, I dare say, you do not care to give, but I have studied the nervous organisation of man long enough to know that where there is an outlet for thoughts in speech, they become less injurious to bodily health."

"Yes, that's it, old Mark," he said with quite an