"
"I'm neither old nor mad."
Levillier and Julian both looked at Valentine with some amazement.
"Are you talking about yourself?" the doctor asked.
"Certainly."
"Why? What talent is dead in you?"
"My talent for music. Do you know that for the last few days I've been
able neither to sing nor play?"
"Val, you're joking," exclaimed Julian.
"I am certainly not," he answered, and quite gravely. "I am simply
stating a fact."
Doctor Levillier seemed unable to appreciate that he was speaking
seriously.
"I have come all this way to hear you sing," he said. "I have never asked
you in vain yet."
"Is it my fault if you ask me in vain now?"
Valentine looked him in the face and spoke with a complete sincerity.
The doctor returned the glance, as he sometimes returned the glance of
a patient, very directly, with a clear and simple gravity. Having done
this he felt completely puzzled.
"The talent for music has died in you?" he asked.
"Entirely. I can do nothing with my piano. I have even locked it."
As he spoke he went over to it and pulled at the lid to show them that he
was speaking the truth.
"Where's the key?" asked the doctor.
"Here," said Valentine, producing it from his pocket.
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