"Yes, laugh."
"Laugh? What about?"
"Anything or nothing—but laugh. I have not heard a suspicion of a laugh in weeks. I have been prowling around in a valley of dry bones, and to save my soul I cannot find my way out. I thought I had just begun the ascent of a slope where smiles are occasionally seen, when the hope was shattered by the vulgar familiarity of a mob belonging to the trade."
Dr. Sammie listened to the rather unusual remarks of his friend, and as he recounted the day's experiences in his own original way the amused look on his face drew itself into definite shape around his mouth, and, when Allison had delivered himself of something unusual in the way of a tirade on dive-keepers, the climax had been reached, and the listener rested his head against the back of his chair and laughed in a manner sufficiently hearty to have satisfied the request of his friend.
"Soured on the fraternity, have you?" he asked.
Gilbert Allison slowly raised himself to a sitting posture and, with an elbow resting on either knee, transferred his study from the ceiling pattern to that of the carpet. He did not answer the question.
"Crowley died," he at length observed.
"Yes—and I should think you would be the man to be glad. I imagine the after feeling must be anything but pleasant when one has for years helped fit a fellow creature for the gallows."
Gilbert Allison frowned between his hands and spoke sharply.