“Why, only a man—­rather young—­”

“No symptoms?”

“Symptoms?  Of what?”

The old gentleman folded his withered hands over his cane.  “My child,” he said, “for a year I have had that unfortunate young man under secret observation.  He was not aware of it; it never entered his mind that I could be observing him with minutest attention.  He may have supposed there was nothing the matter with him.  He was in error.  I have studied him carefully.  Look closer! Are there dark circles under his eyes—­or are there not?” he ended in senile triumph.

“There are,” she began, puzzled, “but I—­but of what interest to me—­”

“Compare his symptoms with the symptoms in that book you are studying,” said the old gentleman hoarsely.

“Do you mean—­do you suppose—­” she stammered, turning her eyes on Carden, who promptly blushed to his ears and began to fidget.

“Every symptom,” muttered the old gentleman.  “Poor, poor young man!”

She had seen Carden turn a vivid pink; she now saw him fidget with his walking stick; she discovered the blue circles under his eyes.  Three symptoms at once!

“Do you believe it possible?” she whispered excitedly under her breath to the old gentleman beside her.  “It seems incredible!  Such a rare disease!  Only one single case ever described and studied!  It seems impossible that I could be so fortunate as actually to see a case!  Tell me, Dr. Atwood, do you believe that young man is really afflicted with Lamour’s Disease?”

“There is but one way to be absolutely certain,” said the old gentleman in a solemn voice, “and that is to study him; corroborate your suspicions by observing his pulse and temperature, as did Dr. Lamour.”

“But—­how can I?” she faltered.  “I—­he would probably object to becoming a patient of mine—­”

“Ask him, child!  Ask him.”

“I have not courage—­”

“Courage should be the badge of your profession,” said the old gentleman gravely.  “When did a good physician ever show the white feather in the cause of humanity?”

“I—­I know, but this requires a different sort of courage.”

“How,” persisted the old gentleman, “can you confirm your very natural suspicions concerning this unfortunate young man unless you corroborate your observations by studying him at close range?  Besides, already it seems to me that certain unmistakable signs are visible; I mean that strange physical phase which Dr. Lamour dwells on:  the symmetry of feature and limb, the curiously spiritual beauty.  Do you not notice these?  Or is my sight so dim that I only imagine it?”

“He is certainly symmetrical—­and—­in a certain way—­almost handsome in regard to features,” she admitted, looking at Carden.

“Poor, poor boy!” muttered the old gentleman, wagging his gray whiskers.  “I am too old to help him—­too old to dream of finding a remedy for the awful malady which I am now convinced has seized him.  I shall study him no more.  It is useless.  All I can do now is to mention his case to some young, vigorous, ambitious physician—­some specialist—­”