“But it will be very bad for you. It is my duty to warn you of that.”
“Not half so bad as to lie in bed all night cursing my misery because I cannot sleep. What is the use of life to me if I am to suffer like this? The fits are bad enough, but when they are over, they’re over, and if I can get to lead a little more tranquil life, I dare say they will not trouble me so much.”
“That is quite right, my dear Mr Gartram; but you must see that this is a growing habit.”
“Don’t lecture, doctor; prescribe. I vow here, if you do not, I shall get the stuff from some London chemist, and prescribe for myself.”
“My dear sir! For heaven’s sake don’t do that!”
“There, you see I have the whip hand of you. You’re afraid of losing your patient, eh?”
“I should be so sorry to see you do anything reckless, Mr Gartram, that I will act as you wish. Unwillingly, mind, and only under a promise that you will be very careful, and take the medicine with great discretion.”
“Oh, yes, I’ll promise anything; only give me rest at night.”
“Very well.”
“That’s right. Now then, what do you think of the bamboozler?” cried Gartram, laughing, as he pointed to what looked like a fountain of verdure springing out of a moist, warm, well-sheltered part of the garden.