was
sixty-nine--he married at forty-six--and when the medicine came he
took it, "because, after all, it was begad decent of Whitehouse to
have thought of it."

I spent a miserable night. I went to bed early, and lay awake till
daybreak. The hideous nightmare of the green ray kept me awake for
many nights to come. The General agreed with me that we must waste no
time, and it was arranged that we should take Myra up to London the
next day.

"You know, Ronald," said the old man to me as we sat together after
the mockery that would otherwise have been an excellent dinner, "I
was particularly glad to see you to-day. I've been very worried
about--well, about myself lately. I had an extraordinary experience
the other day which I should never dare to relate to anyone whom I
could not absolutely rely on to believe me. I've been fidgeting for
the last month or two, and that window that you say you saw to-day has
got very much on my nerves. I've been imagining that it's a heliograph
from an enemy encampment. Simply nerves, of course; but nerves ought
not to account for extraordinary optical delusions or hallucinations."

"Hallucinations?" I asked anxiously. "What sort of hallucinations?"

"I hardly like to tell you, my boy," he answered, nervously twirling
his liqueur glass in his fingers. "You see, you're young, and
I'm--well, to tell you the truth, I'm getting old, and when you get
old you get nerves, and they can be terrible things, nerves." I looked
up at the haggard face, drawn into deep furrows with the new trouble
that had fallen on the old man, and I was shocked and startled to see
a look of absolute fear in his eyes. I leaned forward, and laid my
hand on his wrist.

"Tell me," I suggested, as gently as I could. He brightened at once,
and patted my arm affectionately.

"I couldn't tell the little woman," he muttered. "She--she'd have been
frightened, and she might have thought I was going mad. I couldn't
bear that. I hadn't the courage to tell Whitehouse either; but you're
a good chap, Ronald, and you're very fond of my girlie, and your
father and I were pals, as you boys would say. I daresay it was only
a sort of waking dream, or----" He broke off and stared at the
table-cloth. I took the glass from his hand, and filled it with
liqueur brandy, and put it beside him. He sipped it thoughtfully.
Suddenly he turned to me, and brought his hand down on the table with
a bang.

"I swear I'm not mad, Ronald!" he cried f