u only can help me."

"Eh? Oh, certainly--h'm, h'm!--" The Doctor adjusted his glasses and
began to read in a low mumbling voice. By and by he paused, then
slowly looked up with pained, incredulous eyes.

"This is some horrible dream!" he groaned and, feeling his way to the
Major's armchair, sank into it heavily.

"He swoons!" exclaimed Miss Marty. "One moment--a glassful of the
Fra Angelico!"

She ran to the cupboard, found decanter and glasses, poured out a
dose and came hurrying back with it. He declined it, waving her off
with a feeble motion of the hand.

She appealed to Mr. Basket. "Will _you_, sir?"

Mr. Basket confessed afterwards that for the moment, excusably
perhaps, he lost his presence of mind. She had motioned to him to
administer the dose. He misunderstood. Taking the glass
distractedly, he drained it to the dregs, clapped a hand to his
windpipe, and collapsed, sputtering, in a chair facing the Doctor.

"Oh, what have I done?" wailed Miss Marty.

"He deserved it!"

The Doctor pulled himself together, stood erect, and, lurching
forward, gripped Mr. Basket by the shoulder.

"Sir, this lady is my affianced wife!"

"Would you--mind--tapping me in the back?" pleaded Mr. Basket,
between the catches of his breath.

"Not at all, sir." The Doctor complied. "As I was saying, this lady
is my affianced wife. Though Major Hymen were ten thousand times my
friend--by placing both hands on your stomach and bending forward a
little you will find yourself relieved--though Major Hymen were ten
thousand times my friend, it should be over my prostrate body, sir;
and so you may go back and tell him!"

"But I can't find him!" almost screamed Mr. Basket.

"He has disappeared!" quavered Miss Marty.

"It's the best thing he could do!" Dr. Hansombody folded his arms and
looked at Mr. Basket with fierce decision. "Disappeared? Where?"

They answered him in agitated duetto. "Where indeed?" The Major had
vanished, dissolved out of mortal ken, melted (one might say) into
thin air. "If one may quote the Bard, sir, in this connection"--Mr.
Basket wound up his recital--"like an insubstantial pageant faded he
has left not a rack behind; that is to say, unless the letter in your
hands may be considered as answering that description."

"There's only one explanation," the Doctor declared. "The man must
be mad."

Mr. Basket considered this for a moment and shook his head. "We left
him, sir, in the comp