Something of the kind, I confess. Your last trick was the best
trick I have ever seen. It is so good that I wish you had not done it.
CONJURER. And so do I.
SMITH. How do you mean? Do you wish you had never been a conjurer?
CONJURER. I wish I had never been born.
[_Exit_ CONJURER.
[_A silence. The_ DOCTOR _enters, very grave._
DOCTOR. It is all right so far. We have brought him back.
SMITH. [_Drawing near to him._] You told me there was mental trouble
with the girl.
DOCTOR. [_Looking at him steadily._] No. I told you there was mental
trouble in the family.
SMITH. [_After a silence._] Where is Mr. Morris Carleon?
DOCTOR. I have got him into bed in the next room. His sister is looking
after him.
SMITH. His sister! Oh, then do you believe in fairies?
DOCTOR. Believe in fairies? What do you mean?
SMITH. At least you put the person who does believe in them in charge of
the person who doesn't.
DOCTOR. Well, I suppose I do.
SMITH. You don't think she'll keep him awake all night with fairy tales?
DOCTOR. Certainly not.
SMITH. You don't think she'll throw the medicine-bottle out of window
and administer--er--a dewdrop, or anything of that sort? Or a
four-leaved clover, say?
DOCTOR. No; of course not.
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