It's odd you should mention it, because I
was thinking of him to-day, though I haven't seen him for seven
or eight years. He was on the science side with me at school--
a clever fellow though queer; and he went up to Oxford when I
went to Germany. The fact is, it's rather a sad story.
I often asked him to come and see me, and when I heard nothing I
made inquiries, you know. I was shocked to learn that poor Smith
had gone off his head. The accounts were a bit cloudy, of course,
some saying that he had recovered again; but they always say that.
About a year ago I got a telegram from him myself. The telegram,
I'm sorry to say, put the matter beyond a doubt."
"Quite so," assented Dr. Warner stolidly; "insanity is generally incurable."
"So is sanity," said the Irishman, and studied him with a dreary eye.
"Symptoms?" asked the doctor. "What was this telegram?"
"It's a shame to joke about such things," said Inglewood, in his honest,
embarrassed way; "the telegram was Smith's illness, not Smith. The actual
words were, `Man found alive with two legs.'"
"Alive with two legs," repeated Michael, frowning. "Perhaps a version
of alive and kicking? I don't know much about people out of their senses;
but I suppose they ought to be kicking.
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