why."

Lord Harry obeyed. He saw a face ghastly in pallor: he shrank back and
fell into a chair, saying no more.

"Now, my good friend," said the doctor, "drink this and you'll be
better--ever so much better, ever so much better. Why--that is
brave----" he looked at him strangely, "How do you like the medicine?"

Oxbye shook his head as a man who has taken something nauseous. "I
don't like it at all," he said. "It doesn't taste like the other
physic."

"No I have been changing it--improving it."

The Dane shook his head again. "There's a pain in my throat," he said;
"it stings--it burns!"

"Patience--patience. It will pass away directly, and you will lie down
again and fall asleep comfortably."

Oxbye sank back upon the sofa. His eyes closed. Then he opened them
again, looking about him strangely, as one who is suffering some new
experience. Again he shook his head, again he closed his eyes, and he
opened them no more. He was asleep.

The doctor stood at his head watching gravely. Lord Harry, in his
chair, leaned forward, also watching, but with white face and trembling
hands.

As they watched, the man's head rolled a little to the side, turning
his face more towards the room. Then a curious and terrifying thing
happened. His mouth began slowly to fall open.

"Is he--is he--is he fainting?" Lord Harry whispered.

"No; he is asleep. Did you never see a man sleep with his mouth wide
open?"

They were silent for a space.

The doctor broke the silence.

"There's a good light this morning," he said carelessly. "I think I
will try a photograph. Stop! Let me tie up his mouth with a
handkerchief--so." The patient was not disturbed by the operation,
though the doctor tied up the handkerchief with vigour enough to awaken
a sound sleeper. "Now--we'll see if he looks like a post-mortem
portrait."

He went into the next room, and returned with his camera. In a few
minutes he had taken the picture, and was holding the glass negative
against the dark sleeve of his coat, so as to make it visible. "We
shall see how it looks," he said, "when it is printed. At present I
don't think it is good enough as an imitation of you to be sent to the
insurance offices. Nobody, I am afraid, who knew you, would ever take
this for a post-mortem portrait of Lord Harry. Well, we shall see.
Perhaps by-and-by--to-morrow--we may be able to take a better
photograph. Eh?" Lord Harry followed his movements, watching him
closely, but said