"Sad?" He turned sharply on the lawyer of unsavory suits. "What is sad
about it? A fool and his money! Is that tragedy?"

"Comedy, my friend. Always comedy. This also, perhaps. But grim.... Our
friend there who is so clever of hand and eye; he is not perhaps a
medical man?"

"Yes; he is. What connection--Good God!" he cried, as a flood of memory
suddenly poured light upon a dark spot in some of his forgotten reading.

"Ah? You know? Yes; I have had such a case in my legal practice. Died of
an--an error. He made a mistake--in a bottle, which he purchased for
that purpose. But this one--he elects to live and face it--"

"Does he know it?"

"Obviously. One can see the dread in his eyes. Some of his friends know
it--and his family, I am told. But he does not know this interesting
little experiment of our friend. Profitable, too, eh? One wonders how he
came to suspect. A medical man, though; a keen eye. Of course."

"Damn him," said Banneker quietly. "General paralysis?"

"Eck-xactly. Twelve, maybe fifteen years ago, a little recklessness. A
little overheating of the blood. Perhaps after a dinner like this. The
poison lies dormant; a snake asleep. Harms no one. Not himself; not
another. Until--something here"--he tapped the thick black curls over
the base of his brain. "All that ruddy strength, that lusty good-humor
passing on courageously--for he is a brave man, Eyre--to slow torture
and--and the end. Grim, eh?"

Banneker reached for a drink. "How long?" he asked.

"As for that, he is very strong. It might be slow. One prays not."

"At any rate, that little reptile, Ives, shan't have his profit of it."
Banneker rose and, disdaining even the diplomacy of an excuse, drew Ely
Ives aside.

"That bet of yours was a joke, Ives," he prescribed.

Ives studied him in silence, wishing that he had watched, through the
dinner, how much drink he took.

"A joke?" he asked coolly. "I don't understand you."

"Try," advised Banneker with earnestness. "I happen to have read that
luetic diagnosis, myself. A joke, Ives, so far as the two hundred goes."

"What do you expect me to do?" asked the other.

"Tear up the check, when it comes. Make what explanation your ingenuity
can devise. That's your affair. But don't cash that check, Ives. For if
you do--I dislike to threaten--"

"You don't need to threaten me, Mr. Banneker," interrupted Ives eagerly.
"If you think it wasn't a fair bet, your word is enough for me. That
goes