He hesitated, and seemed to be trying to recall something, then began humming a popular air. He had apparently forgotten their presence.
'Look here, Mancher,' said the elder of the two, 'tell us just what occurred that night--to Jarette, you know.'
'Oh yes, about Jarette,' said the other. 'It's odd I should have neglected to tell you--I tell it so often. You see I knew, by overhearing him talking to himself, that he was pretty badly frightened. So I couldn't resist the temptation to come to life and have a bit of fun out of him--I couldn't, really. That was all right, though certainly I did not think he would take it so seriously; I did not, truly. And afterward--well, it was a tough job changing places with him, and then--damn you! you didn't let me out!'
Nothing could exceed the ferocity with which these last words were delivered. Both men stepped back in alarm.
'We?--why--why--' Helberson stammered, losing his self-possession utterly, 'we had nothing to do with it.'
'Didn't I say you were Doctors Hellborn and Sharper?' inquired the lunatic, laughing.
'My name is Helberson, yes; and this gentleman is Mr. Harper.' replied the former, reassured. 'But we are not physicians now; we are--well, hang it, old man, we are gamblers.'
And that was the truth.
'A very good profession--very good, indeed; and, by the way, I hope Sharper here paid over Jarette's money like an honest stake-holder. A very good and honourable profession,' he repeated, thoughtfully, moving carelessly away; 'but I stick to the old one. I am High Supreme Medical Officer of the Bloomingdale Asylum; it is my duty to cure the superintendent.'
