“Show me your tongue.”
“Not if I know myself,” I replied irritated.
“All right,” concluded Dr. Tasa; “calm yourself. I see you are armed. I think it would be best for you to give me your revolver, and for you to put a little ice on your head.”
“But I am not in the least crazy.”
“Well, well,” and his little yellow face wrinkled up as if to say, “Who knows?”
“I wasn’t talking to myself,” I said in order to convince him.
“With whom were you talking?”
“With Fiam....” I didn’t finish, for I remembered my promise not to reveal his presence to any one.
“Humph, humph!” He shook his head and murmured, “Quiet yourself, and don’t think anything more about Fiam. Go to sleep; we shall see to-morrow.”
The next morning I pretended to leave the train, and changed cars in order to escape the watchfulness of Dr. Tasa.