“Is the Gnome ill?”
“Worse.”
“Mad?”
“Haunted.”
“Since when has your practice branched out into the supernatural, doctor?”
“Oh, as for that, his trouble is physical too.”
“Is it anything that a simple lay mind could grasp?”
The Little Red Doctor grunted. “His legs have turned to lamp-wicking. I don't vouch for the diagnosis. It's his own.”
“Paralysis?” I hazarded.
“Grip,” was the Little Red Doctor's curt rejoinder.