"Upon my own honor and the honor of the company to whom I belong," he answered with some show of dignity. "It is a pledge which I have never yet broken."
"I am a bribed man," Spencer answered.
Monsieur Louis threw away his second cigarette. He cast a look almost of admiration upon the man who still lay stretched upon the couch.
"You are the only Englishman I ever met, Monsieur Spencer," he said, "who was not pig-headed. You have the tenacity of your countrymen, but you have the genius to pick out the right thread from the tangle, to know truth when you meet it, even in unlikely places. I doff my hat to you, Monsieur Spencer. If you permit I will send my own physician to you. You will be yourself in a week."
"You know the antidote?" Spencer remarked grimly.
"Naturally! Accidents will happen. You wish that I should send him?"
"Without doubt," Spencer answered. "I am weary of this couch."
"You shall leave it in a week," Monsieur promised, as he left the room.
Spencer closed his eyes. Already he felt coming on the daily headache, which, with the terrible weakness, was a part of his symptoms. But there was no rest for him yet. Monsieur Louis had scarcely been gone five minutes when Duncombe arrived.
Duncombe had had no word of his friend's illness. He stood over his couch in shocked surprise.