nything until it pleases you."

I began to study myself in the glass on the dressing-table. The
examination interested me immensely. There was certainly a marble-like
hue about the skin. The whites of my eyes were distinctly stained, but
not so intensely as had been the case with Mr. Herbert Wain, showing
that I had not suffered from the Blue Disease as long as he had. But
when I began to study my reflection from the aesthetic point of view, I
became deeply engrossed.

"I don't agree with you, Sarakoff," I remarked at length. "We still need
mirrors. In fact I have never found the mirror so interesting in my
life."

"Don't use that absurd phrase," he answered. "It implies that something
other than life exists."

"So it does."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if I stick this pair of scissors into your heart you will die, my
dear fellow." He was silent, and a frown began to gather on his brow.
"Yes," I continued, "your psychological deductions are not entirely
valid. The fear of death still exists, but now limited to a small
sphere. In that sphere, it will operate with extreme intensity." I
picked up the scissors and made a stealthy movement towards him. To my
amazement I obtained an immediate proof of my theory. He sprang up with
a loud cry, darted to the door and vanished. For a moment I stood in a
state of bewilderment. Was it possible that he, with all his size and
strength, was afraid of me? And then a great fit of laughter overcame me
and I sank down on my bed with the tears coming from my eyes.

CHAPTER XV

THE TERRIBLE FEAR

On coming down to breakfast, I found Sarakoff already seated at the
table devouring the morning papers. I picked up a discarded one and
stood by the fire, glancing over its contents. There was only one
subject of news, and that was the spread of the Blue Disease. From every
part of the north cases were reported, and in London it had broken out
in several districts.

"So it's all come true," I remarked.

He nodded, and continued reading. I sauntered to the window. A thin
driving snow was now falling, and the passers-by were hurrying along in
the freezing slush, with collars turned up and heads bowed before the
wind.

"This is an ideal day to spend indoors by the fireside," I observed. "I
think I'll telephone to the hospital and tell Jones to take my work."

Sarakoff raised his eyes, and then his eyebrows.

"So," he said, "the busy man suddenly thinks work a bother. The pow