He grew widely
known in the neighborhood under his nickname. Quarrels took place, ending
once or twice in blows. It became plain, even to Mrs. Fairbank herself,
that some wise change must be made. While we were still considering what
the change was to be, the unfortunate hostler was thrown on our hands for
some time to come by an accident in the stables. Still pursued by his
proverbial ill-luck, the poor wretch's leg was broken by a kick from a
horse.

He was attended to by our own surgeon, in his comfortable bedroom at the
stables. As the date of his birthday drew near, he was still confined to
his bed.

Physically speaking, he was doing very well. Morally speaking, the surgeon
was not satisfied. Francis Raven was suffering under some mysterious
mental disturbance, which interfered seriously with his rest at night.
Hearing this, I thought it my duty to tell the medical attendant what was
preying on the patient's mind. As a practical man, he shared my opinion
that the hostler was in a state of delusion on the subject of his Wife and
his Dream. "Curable delusion, in my opinion," the surgeon added, "if the
experiment could be fairly tried."

"How can it be tried?" I asked. Instead of replying, the surgeon put a
question to me, on his side.

"Do you happen to know," he said, "that this year is Leap Year?"

"Mrs. Fairbank reminded me of it yesterday," I answered. "Otherwise I
might _not_ have known it."

"Do you think Francis Raven knows that this year is Leap Year?"

(I began to see dimly what my friend was driving at.)

"It depends," I answered, "on whether he has got an English almanac.
Suppose he has _not_ got the almanac--what then?"

"In that case," pursued the surgeon, "Francis Raven is innocent of all
suspicion that there is a twenty-ninth day in February this year. As a
necessary consequence--what will he do? He will anticipate the appearance
of the Woman with the Knife, at two in the morning of the twenty-ninth of
February, instead of the first of March. Let him suffer all his
superstitious terrors on the wrong day. Leave him, on the day that is
really his birthday, to pass a perfectly quiet night, and to be as sound
asleep as other people at two in the morning. And then, when he wakes
comfortably in time for his breakfast, shame him out of his delusion by
telling him the truth."

I agreed to try the experiment. Leaving the surgeon to caution Mrs.
Fairbank on the subject of Leap Year, I went to the sta