"The discovery of the reason why no bee will touch the nectar of the
EPIPACTIS LATIFOLIA, though it is sweet to our taste, and wasps are
greedy for it, WOULD pay," commented the doctor. "Not like a blue
rhododendron, in mere money, but in recognition. Lots of men have
achieved a half-column in the 'Encyclopedia Britannica' on a smaller
basis than that."

They stood now at the end of the garden, before a small, dilapidated
summer-house. On the bench inside, facing him, Theron saw a strange
recumbent figure stretched at full length, apparently sound asleep, or
it might be dead. Looking closer, with a startled surprise, he made out
the shaven skull and outlandish garb of a Chinaman. He turned toward his
guide in the expectation of a scene.

The doctor had already taken out a note-book and pencil, and was drawing
his watch from his pocket. He stepped into the summer-house, and,
lifting the Oriental's limp arm, took account of his pulse. Then, with
head bowed low, side-wise, he listened for the heart-action. Finally, he
somewhat brusquely pushed back one of the Chinaman's eyelids, and made
a minute inspection of what the operation disclosed. Returning to the
light, he inscribed some notes in his book, put it back in his pocket,
and came out. In answer to Theron's marvelling stare, he pointed toward
a pipe of odd construction lying on the floor beneath the sleeper.

"This is one of my regular afternoon duties," he explained, again with
the whimsical half-smile. "I am increasing his dose monthly by regular
stages, and the results promise to be rather remarkable. Heretofore,
observations have been made mostly on diseased or morbidly deteriorated
subjects. This fellow of mine is strong as an ox, perfectly nourished,