the lady conceived the absurd idea that I had sent Pettigrew to her.
Undoubtedly it was a bold stroke. Pettigrew's scheme was to play upon his hostess's attachment for me by hinting to her that if I gave up smoking I would probably die. Finding her attentive rather than talkative, he soon dared to assure her that he himself loathed tobacco and only took it for his health.
"By the doctor's orders, mark you," he said, impressively; "Dr. Southwick, of Hyde Park."
She expressed polite surprise at this, and then Pettigrew, believing he had made an impression, told his story as concocted.
"My own case," he said, "is one much in point. I suffered lately from sore throat, accompanied by depression of spirits and loss of appetite. The ailment was so unusual with me that I thought it prudent to put myself in Dr. Southwick's hands. As far as possible I shall give you his exact words:
"'When did you give up smoking?' he asked, abruptly, after examining my throat.
"'Three months ago,' I replied, taken by surprise; 'but how did you know I had given it up?'
"'Never mind how I know,' he said, severely; 'I told you that, however much you might desire to do so, you were not to take to not smoking. This is how you carry out my directions.'
