So Master Ambrose found himself alone with Endymion Leer; and, though he had never liked the man, he was very glad to have the chance of consulting him. For, socially, however great his shortcomings might be, Master Ambrose knew him to be undeniably the best doctor in the country, and a very clever fellow into the bargain.
"Leer," he said solemnly, when Dame Jessamine had left the room, "there are very queer things happening at that Academy ... very queer things."
"Indeed?" said Endymion Leer, in a tone of surprise. "What sort of things?"
Master Ambrose gave a short laugh: "Not the sort of things, if my suspicions are correct, that one cares to talk about—even between men. But I can tell you, Leer, though I'm not what one could call a fanciful man, I believe if I'd stayed much longer in that house I should have gone off my head, the whole place stinks with ... well, with pernicious nonsense, and I actually found myself, I, Ambrose Honeysuckle, seeing things—ridiculous things."
Endymion Leer looked interested.
"What sort of things, Master Ambrose?" he asked.
"Oh, it's not worth repeating—except in so far as it shows that the fancies of silly overwrought women can sometimes be infectious. I actually imagined that I saw the Senate room portrait of Duke Aubrey reflected on the window. And if I take to fancying things—well, there must be something very fishy in the offing."
Endymion Leer's expression was inscrutable.
"Optical delusions have been known before, Master Ambrose," he said calmly. "Even the eyes of Senators may sometimes play them tricks. Optical delusions, legal fictions—and so the world wags on."
Master Ambrose grunted. He loathed the fellow's offensive way of putting things.