The doctor paused and put his head in the stateroom--a large one on the upper promenade deck and easily accessible.
"I want to thank you," Gregory said earnestly, "for speaking to Miss Endacott."
"Everything all right again?" the other asked, smiling.
"Quite, thanks to you," was the well-satisfied reply. "I hope to God I don't give myself away again! Come in and have a look at my evil genius."
The doctor came a little farther into the room and examined the Image through his eyeglasses.
"Jove, it's amazing," he exclaimed; "amazingly powerful!"
The doctor was clearly fascinated by the Image. His fingers passed over it with the soft touch of a connoisseur. He stood back and viewed it from another angle.
"Ballaston," he said, "there isn't a sculptor in the West to-day who could produce a piece of work like that. It's stupendous!"
"I think I shall tell my steward to send it down below into safe keeping, somewhere," Gregory suggested, turning away and lighting a cigarette. "Don't you think it would be a good idea?"
"I think it would be a damned bad idea," he answered. "Now, look here, young fellow," he went on, putting his hand on Gregory's shoulder, "how old are you?"
"If at your time of life," the doctor continued, "you once begin to give way to what your brain and real consciousness tell you is an idea, you'll be a victim to what they call 'nerves' all your life. You've never been affected before like this, have you?"
"Never," Gregory declared earnestly. "One doesn't want to talk about oneself, but I got my medals in France, and a jolly close shave of the big thing. I've shot big game and I've come out of tight corners once or twice without turning a hair. That's why I don't understand this."
"Good!" the doctor exclaimed. "That confirms me in what I was saying. Square up to it, man! Don't be all the time flinching away, like you are now. Look at it. Look at it with me, arm in arm. It is just a damned but wonderful representation of wickedness. There is nothing alive about it, except its art. It isn't going to do you any harm, and it isn't going to do me any harm. Let it stay where it is."
Ballaston fastened his tie slowly, considering the advice thoughtfully.
"You mean that, Doctor?" he demanded. "You see, when I'm sane, I have the utmost respect and--I can say it to you--affection for Miss Endacott. She's only a child, of course, but she's wonderful. It's such a horrible thought that I might----"