of a man, I locked the door, and I waited for him to get his breath again.
"When you are ready, Dr. Hume."
I sat and watched him. He had followed me with his eyes as I moved about the room; starting as I picked up his pistol. Now he returned me glance for glance. He was getting the better of his breathlessness; and presently raised himself to a sitting posture.
"You should be in a freak museum, Ferguson."
"Indeed. Why?"
"You're a prodigy of bone and muscle."
"You should remember it."
"I've but just now made the discovery. I shall have to refurbish my faith in the labours of Hercules and the story of Samson." He was, as it were, arranging himself inside his clothes. "I don't resent your physical configuration; it's educative, as showing what the strength of a man may be. It's a pity you should be a Are you only a fool, or are you something else as well?" He stood up, still arranging himself inside his clothes. He pointed to the plum-coloured cloak. "What's this?"
"It's what I'm going to wring your neck for."
"Is that so? I don't doubt your capacity, but why exercise it in this particular instance?"
"Then you must satisfy me that, though the
