, or all but the poorest possible. Daylight
had now succeeded to dawn, yet the first thing the stranger did was to
strike a match and light a candle.

'Will you kindly place yourself with your back to the window?' he
said. 'I am going to apply what is called the catoptric test. You have
probably heard of it?'

'My ignorance of scientific matters is fathomless.'

The other smiled, and at once offered a simple explanation of the term.
By the appearance of the candle as it reflected itself in the patient's
eye it was possible, he said, to decide whether cataract had taken hold
upon the organ.

For a minute or two he conducted his experiment carefully, and Yule was
at no loss to read the result upon his face.

'How long have you suspected that something was wrong?' the surgeon
asked, as he put down the candle.

'For several months.'

'You haven't consulted anyone?'

'No one. I have kept putting it off. Just tell me what you have
discovered.'

'The back of the right lens is affected beyond a doubt.'

'That means, I take it, that before very long I shall be practically
blind?'

'I don't like to speak with an air of authority. After all, I am only a
surgeon who has bungled himself into pauperdom. You must see a competent
man; that much I can tell you in all earnestness.

Do you use your eyes much?'

'Fourteen hours a day, that's all.'

'H'm! You are a literary man, I think?'

'I am. My name is Alfred Yule.'

He had some faint hope that the name might be recognised; that would
have gone far, for the moment, to counteract his trouble. But not even
this poor satisfaction was to be granted him; to his hearer the name
evidently conveyed nothing.

'See a competent man, Mr Yule. Science has advanced rapidly since the
days when I was a student; I am only able to assure you of the existence
of disease.'

They talked for half an hour, until both were shaking with cold. Then
Yule thrust his hand into his pocket.

'You will of course allow me to offer such return as I am able,' he
said. 'The information isn't pleasant, but I am glad to have it.'

He laid five shillings on the chest of drawers--there was no table. The
stranger expressed his gratitude.

'My name is Duke,' he said, 'and I was christened Victor--possibly
because I was doomed to defeat in life. I wish you could have associated
the memory of me with happier circumstances.'

They shook hands, and Yule quitted the house.

He came out again by Camde