Next for you," I said, as his eyes came dancing through
a cloud of birdseye, "is Cane Hill or Colney Hatch, if you don't take
care."

"I prefer the Village mortuary, if you don't mind, Gilly."

"Either would be so nice for your mother and sister!"

"And I'm such a help to them as I am, aren't I? Think of the bread I win
and all the dollars I'm raking in!"

"It would be murder as well as suicide," I went on. "It would finish off
one of them, if not both."

He smoked in silence with a fatuous, drunken smile, though he was as
sober as a man could be. That made it worse. And it was worst of all
when the smile faded from the face to gather in the eyes, in a liquid
look of unfathomable cynicism, new to me in Uvo Delavoye, and yet
mysteriously familiar and repellent.

"Yes; they're certainly a drawback, Gillon, but I don't know that
they've a right to be anything more. We don't ask to be put into this
world; surely we can put ourselves out if it amuses us."

"'If it amuses us!'"

"But that's the whole point!" he cried, puffing and twinkling as before.
"How many people out themselves for no earthly reason that anybody else
can see, and have their memory insulted by the usual idiotic verdict?
They're no more temporarily insane than I am. It's their curiosity that
gets the better of them. They want to go at their best, with all their
wits about them, as you or I might want to go to Court. If they could
take a return ticket, they would; they don't really want to go for good
any more than I do. They're doing something they don't really want to
do, yet can't help doing, as half of us are, half our time."

"They're weak fools," I blustered. "They're destructive children who've
never grown up, and they ought to be taken care of till they do."

He smiled through his smoke with sinister serenity.

"But we all are children, my dear Gilly, and on the best authority most
of us are fools. As for the destructive faculty, it's part of human
nature and three parts of modern policy; but our politicians haven't the
child's excuse of wanting to know how things are made--which I see at
the back of half the brains that get blown out by obvious accident."

"Good-night, Uvo," I said, just grasping him by the arm. "I know you're
only pulling my leg, but I've heard about enough for one night."

"Another insulting verdict!" he laughed. "Well, so long, if you really
mean it; but do you mind giving me my Webley and Scott before you go?"

"