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"Here they are," said Miss Smith; and she read: "Lamour's Disease; the rarest of all known diseases; first discovered and described by Ero S. Lamour, M.D., M.S., F.B.A., M.F.H., in 1861. Only a single case has ever been observed. This case is fully described in Dr. Lamour's superb and monumental work in sixteen volumes.

Lamour's Disease is a disease not yet understood a disease whose termination is believed to be fatal a strange disease which seems to render radiant and beautiful the features of the patient, brightening them with the forewarning of impending death and the splendid resurrection of immortality." The Tracer of Lost Persons caressed his chin reflectively. "Exactly, Miss Smith.

"I am really not ill," he said unsteadily. "I cannot let you think I am " "Don't speak that way, Mr. Carden. I I am perfectly miserable over it; I don't feel any happiness in my discovery now not the least bit. I had rather live my entire life without seeing one case of Lamour's Disease than to believe you are afflicted with it." "But I'm not, Miss Hollis! really, I am not "

For a moment she remained silent, then, face averted, laid her finger on the book beside her. "That," she said unsteadily. He read aloud: "Lamour's Disease. A Treatise in sixteen volumes by Ero S. Lamour, M.D., M.S., F.B.A., M.F.H." "All that?" he asked guiltily. "I don't know, Mr. Carden. Are you laughing at me? Do you not believe me?"

And I promise you solemnly to devote my entire life to observing his symptoms and searching for proper means to combat them. My one ambition in life is personally to observe and study a case of Lamour's Disease, and to give my entire life to investigating its origin, its course, and its cure." The old gentleman rose, bowing with that quaintly obsolete courtesy which was in vogue in his youth.

And the certainty has made me perfectly miserable, because his is such a valuable life to the world, and he himself is such a splendid, wholesome, noble specimen of youth and courage, that I cannot bear to believe him incurably afflicted." "Good Heavens!" shouted the doctor, "what has he got and who is he?" "He is Victor Carden, the celebrated artist, and he has Lamour's Disease!" she gasped.

"Yes," she said with that charming inflection youth reserves for age. "Astonishing!" he murmured. "The coincidence is more than remarkable. A physician! And studying Lamour's Disease! Incredible!" "Is there anything strange in that, Dr. Atwood?" she smiled. "Strange!" He lowered his voice, peering across at Carden. "Strange, did you say? Look across the path at that poor young man sitting there!"

It's your mere presence, your personality, your charm, your beauty, your loveliness, your " "Mr. Carden, I beg of you! I it is part of my duty to observe symptoms, but but you are making it very hard for me very difficult " "I am only proving to you that it isn't Lamour's Disease which does stunts with my pulses, my temperature, my color. I'm not morbid except when I realize my deception.

Lamour believes, presages the inexorable approach of immortality. "There is no known remedy for Lamour's Disease. The only case on record is the case of the young lady described by Dr. Lamour, who watched her for years with unexampled patience and enthusiasm; finally, in the interest of science, marrying his patient in order to devote his life to a study of her symptoms.

She looked at him compassionately for a moment, then rose. "It is best that you should be informed as to your probable condition," she said. "In Lamour's works, volume nine, you had better read exactly what Lamour says. Do you mind coming to the office with me, Mr. Carden?" "Now?" "Yes. The book is there. Do you mind coming?" "No no, of course not."