occupied by Private Strong, as to whether they
had seen or heard anything of this seizure or
fit, by which the dumb man professed to have
been attacked in the night. Not one of them
knew anything about it, and it was evident
that if the man had ever really been the victim
of such a seizure, he had taken it very quietly,
and had not thought it necessary to disturb his
companions; which, even supposing dumbness
to have been one of the first symptoms of his
attack, he might easily have done, the very fact
of his having inscribed the particulars of his case
upon the paper which the doctor found lying on
his breast proving that he was certainly in
possession of all his other faculties.

Dr. Curzon proceeded next to subject the
patient himself to a very searching examination.
He addressed several questions to him
—for the man did not profess to be deaf
as well as dumb—and bade him try at least
to utter some kind of sound, more or less
articulate, in answer; but beyond several
extravagant distortions of the features generally,
and much ineffectual opening and shutting of
the mouth particularly, no response whatever
was to be obtained. Next the doctor set himself
to ascertain whether there was—as might
certainly have been expected—any loss of power
in connexion with any other of the faculties.
No such thing. The man was in all other
respects perfectly healthful and vigorous, and
not only was so, but looked so. Lastly, Dr.
Curzon proceeded to engage in a prolonged
scrutiny of the man's vocal chords, using an
instrument made expressly for the purpose of
such examinations, by means of which the
interior of the throat is exposed to the view of
the investigator. This proceeding, however,
was productive of as little result as the rest.
Mr. Strong's vocal chords were, as far as
external appearance went, in much the same
condition as those of other people. The
examination over, Dr. Curzon left his patient for
a time, entertaining a pretty firm conviction
that this was simply a bad case of shamming,
and leaving directions with all those who were
likely to come in contact with the dumb man
to keep a sharp look out.

Days succeeded days, and the lips of John
Strong remained—as far as the utterance of any
articulate sound went—hermetically sealed.
Not one of those about him could betray him
into speech, nor was he ever heard to mutter
any word, or intelligible sound in his sleep.
Experiments of all kinds, in which the body
and the mind were alike addressed were tried.
The doctor—a man of great resource and much
ingenuity—would, for instance, wake the man
suddenly, in the middle of the night, and make
him get out of bed to attend patients who needed
assistance: addressing him, at that moment of
sudden waking up, with some words which
required an answer. Mr. Strong was, however,
proof against these sudden surprises, and was
quite himself even when thus abruptly roused
in the middle of the night. Not a word was
to be got out of him. Plenty of gesticulation,
abundant evidence of attention, and of a clear
comprehension of what was required of him;
but no speech. It was probable, the doctor
thought, that if the man could for a time be
deprived of consciousness, he would in that
condition be brought to say something more or
less intelligible. He determined to get the
dumb man under the influence of chloroform,
and try what could be done with him then.
The chloroform was applied accordingly; but
the man by resisting, first, its application at all,
and then its influence when they did succeed in
applying it, managed to defeat the doctor's
efforts in this line: the doctor hesitating to incur
the risk of administering by main force a dose
strong enough to render his patient incapable
of all resistance. An attempt was then made to
intoxicate him, and, as he refused to take a
sufficient amount of spirit to bring about the
desired end, a considerable dose of alcohol was
cunningly introduced into the medicine he was
in the habit of taking; but he steadily refused,
come what might, to swallow a single drop of
the medicine so craftily qualified.

The doctor's wife had at this time in her
employment a young woman, serving in the capacity
of housemaid, who besides being gifted
with considerable personal attractions, was also
endowed with a large share of that capacity for
mischief, the possession of which persons of a
misanthropic turn of mind are fond of ascribing
to all members of the sex which doubles our
joys and divides our sorrows. Having confided
to this young person the particulars of Mr.
Strong's case, the astute doctor, a little more
than hinting that he looked upon the whole
thing in the light of a "do," requested her as
a last resource to come to the rescue. On a
certain fine hot afternoon in July, the patient
was sent up to Dr. Curzon's house, ostensibly
to do some work in the doctor's garden, but
really to encounter the fascinations of the
doctor's housemaid. During the whole of that
afternoon the full force of those fascinations
was freely exercised upon him, whatever he
did, and wherever he went. Did he set
himself to the accomplishment of his allotted task
in the garden, there was this dangerous young
person ready to help him with his work, and
even to do that work for him. Did he, on the
other hand, sit down to rest himself in the
shade, there she was, sitting beside him and
conversationally disposed. She plied him with
draughts of beer when he was thirsty, and
later in the evening made him comfortable
with tea and buttered toast. Strong drank the
beer and ate the toast, nay, he smiled upon her
gratefully, and expressed his contentment by
the gesticulations which had by this time
become familiar to him. All these things he
did, but speak, or utter sound, he did not.

Yet there was no sort of colloquial snare
which she did not lay for her companion;
sometimes appealing to him for directions when
they were at work together, and this in the
most artless manner, as if she had forgotten the
existence of that infirmity of his; at other times
adopting a different line, and making open
allusion to it, frankly telling him that she did not