yours is, remember, because I seed
it on the door." He twisted his hat round several times in his hands and
drew his brows together, puzzled at the speed of his ideas. Then he
remembered the card that Symington-Tearle had given him.

He pulled it out and examined it. "I'm going across to see this gent,"
he announced. "It's convenient, 'im living so close. Perhaps he'll 'ave
a word to say about this 'ere disease. Fair spread over Birmingham, so
they say. It would be nasty if any bloke was responsible for it. Good
day to yer." He opened the door slowly, and glanced back at us standing
in the middle of the room watching him. "Look 'ere," he said swiftly,
"what did 'e mean, saying I was never going to die and----" The light
from the window was against his eyes, and he could not see the features
of Sarakoff's face, but there was something in the outline of his body
that checked him. "Guv'ner, it ain't true." The words came hoarsely from
his lips. "I ain't never not going to die."

Sarakoff spoke.

"You are never going to die, Mr. Herbert Wain ... you understand?...
_Never_ going to die, unless you get killed in an accident--or starve."

I jerked up my hand to stop my friend.

Wain stared incredulously. Then he burst into a roar of laughter and
smacked his thigh.

"Gor lumme!" he exclaimed, "if that ain't rich. Never going to die! Live
for ever! Strike me, if that ain't a notion!" The tears ran down his
cheeks and he paused to wipe them away. "If I was to believe what you
say," he went on, "it would fair drive me crazy. Live for ever--s'elp
me, if that wouldn't be just 'ell. Good-day to yer, gents. I'm obliged
to yer."

He went out into the sunlit street still roaring with laughter, a thin,
ragged, tattered figure, with the shadow of immortality upon him.

CHAPTER X

THE ILLNESS OF MR. ANNOT

The departure of Mr. Herbert Wain was a relief. I turned to Sarakoff at
once and spoke with some heat.

"You were more than imprudent to give that fellow hints that we knew
more about the Blue Disease than anybody else," I exclaimed. "This may
be the beginning of incalculable trouble."

"Nonsense," replied the Russian. "You are far too apprehensive, Harden.
What can he do?"

"What may he not do?" I cried bitterly. "Do you suppose London will
welcome the spread of the germ? Do you think that people will be pleased
to know that you and I were responsible for its appearance?"

"When they realize that it brings imm