k I'm going to spend a cold night on the hillside for
the sake of a stomach-_cum_-brain-_cum_-eye illusion . . . . Lord ha'
mercy! What's that?"

There was a muffled report, a blinding smother of dust just in front of
us, a crack, the noise of rent boughs, and about ten yards of the
cliffside--pines, undergrowth, and all--slid down into the road below,
completely blocking it up. The uprooted trees swayed and tottered for a
moment like drunken giants in the gloom, and then fell prone among their
fellows with a thunderous crash. Our two horses stood motionless and
sweating with fear. As soon as the rattle of falling earth and stone had
subsided, my companion muttered: "Man, if we'd gone forward we should
have been ten feet deep in our graves by now! 'There are more things in
heaven and earth' . . . Come home, Pansay, and thank God. I want a drink
badly."

We retraced our way over the Church Ridge, and I arrived at Dr.
Heatherlegh's house shortly after midnight.

His attempts towards my cure commenced almost immediately, and for a
week I never left his sight. Many a time in the course of that week did
I bless the good fortune which had thrown me in contact with Simla's
best and kindest doctor. Day by day my spirits grew lighter and more
equable. Day by day, too, I became more and more inclined to fall in
with Heatherlegh's "spectral illusion" theory, implicating eyes, brain,
and stomach. I wrote to Kitty, telling her that a slight sprain caused
by a fall from my horse kept me indoors for a few days; and that I
should be recovered before she had time to regret my absence.

Heatherlegh's treatment was simple to a degree. It consisted of
liver-pills, cold-water baths and strong exercise, taken in the dusk or
at early dawn--for, as he sagely observed: "A man with a sprained ankle
doesn't walk a dozen miles a day, and your young woman might be
wondering if she saw you."

At the end of the week, after much examination of pupil and pulse and
strict injunctions as to diet and pedestrianism, Heatherlegh dismissed
me as brusquely as he had taken charge of me. Here is his parting
benediction: "Man, I certify to your mental cure, and that's as much as
to say I've cured most of your bodily ailments. Now, get your traps out
of this as soon as you can; and be off to make love to Miss Kitty."

I was endeavoring to express my thanks for his kindness. He cut me
short:

"Don't think I did this because I like you. I gather that you've