They both sat down; and Mr. Halliburton gave him the history of the past four and twenty hours: commencing with the fainting-fit, and ending with his racking doubts as to whether Dr. Carrington's opinion was borne out by facts, or whether he might have been deceived. "Allen," he concluded, "you must see what you can make out of my state: and you must report to me without disguise, as you would report to your own soul."
The surgeon looked grave. "Carrington is a clever man," he said. "One whom it would be difficult to deceive."
"I know his reputation. But these clever men are not infallible. Put his opinion out of your mind: examine me yourself, and tell me what you think."
Mr. Allen proceeded to do so. He first of all asked Mr. Halliburton a few general questions as to his present state of health, as he would have done by any other patient, and then he sounded his lungs.
"Now then—the truth," said Mr. Halliburton.
"The truth is—so far as I can judge—that you are in no present danger whatever."
"Neither did Dr. Carrington say I was—in present danger," hastily replied Mr. Halliburton. "Are my lungs sound?"
"They are not sound: but neither do I think they are extensively diseased. You may live for many years, with care."
"Would any insurance office take me?"
"No. I do not think it would."