He did not tell the story dramatically; he had no
fire left in him; he stated it in a matter-of-fact way, which was
impressive because of the speaker's indisputable belief in his own
words. Hollington felt no desire to laugh; on the contrary, he was
seriously alarmed, and he determined to knock this insane freak of
Harold's brain to atoms, if mortal power could do it, and regardless
of consequences to himself.
When Dartmouth had finished, Hollington lit a cigar and puffed at it
for a moment, meditatively regarding his friend meanwhile. Then he
remarked, in a matter-of-fact tone:
"So you are your own grandfather, and Miss Penrhyn is her own
grandmother."
Dartmouth moved uneasily. "It sounds ridiculous--but--don't chaff."
"My dear boy, I was never more serious in my life. I merely wanted to
be sure that I had got it straight. It is A.B.C. by this time to you,
but it has exploded in my face like a keg of gunpowder, and I am a
trifle dazed. But, to come down to deadly earnest, will you allow me
to speak to you from the medical point of view? You know I had some
idea at one time of afflicting the community with one more physician,
until we stumbled on those coal mines, and my prospective patients
were spared premature acquaintance with the golden stairs.
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