r his neglect was a severe verdict. "No liquor, no tobacco, and three
months' immediate and complete rest." Quisante laughed--very much as he
had at his kinsman in the City. Both doctor and stock-jobber showed such
a curious ignorance of the conditions under which his life had to be
lived and of his reasons for caring to live it.

"What's the matter then?" he asked.

The doctor became very technical, though not quite unreserved; the heart
and the stomach were in some unholy conspiracy; this was as much as
Quisante really understood.

"And if I don't do as you say?" he asked. The doctor smiled and shrugged
his shoulders. "I shan't outlive Methuselah anyhow, I suppose?"

"The present conditions of your life are very wearing," said the doctor.

Quisante looked at him thoughtfully.

"But if you'd live wisely, there's no reason why you shouldn't preserve
good health till an advanced age."

Aunt Maria's five hundred, invested in Consols, would bring in twelve
pounds ten shillings or thereabouts every year for ever.

"Thank you," said Quisante, rising and producing the fee. But he paused
before going and said meditatively, "I should really like to be able to
follow your advice, you know." His brow clouded in discontent; the one
serious handicap he recognised was this arbitrary unfortunate doom of a
body unequal to the necessary strain of an active life. "Anyhow I'm good
for a little while?" he asked.

"Dear me, you're in no sort of immediate danger, Mr. Quisante, or I
should be more imperative. Only pray give yourself a chance."

On his way from Harley Street to the House, and again from the House to
his own rooms in Pall Mall, his mind was busy with the speech that he
was to make at the dinner. He had only to respond to the toast of the
guests; few words and simple would be expected. He was thus the more
resolved on a great effort; the surprise that the mere attempt at an
oration would arouse should pave the way for the astonishment his
triumph must create. He had no rival in the programme; the Chairman was
Dick Benyon, the great gun an eminent Colonial Statesman who relied for
fame on his deeds rather than his words. With his curiously minute
calculation of chances Quisante had discovered that there was no social
occasion of great attraction to carry off his audience after dinner;
they would stay and listen if he were worth listening to; the ladies in
the gallery would stay too, if at the outset he could strike a n