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119 my system with bad lymph! See. I will sit down here, on the bed. I don't feel well: that's all—at present. Giddy. Go and tell Starkie. Then go and find a room for me somewhere. A nice room: and flowers. Mind you tell the people what it's for: a case of small-pox.' (He stopped and smiled.) 'Variola confluens, if they are particular. That means something like the certainty of a dead body in the house. You may add that: people like to know. Never mind what you have to pay. A nice room, Leicester. Remember, I shall want to be in it—probably a fortnight—before I die. I used to like Passy: try in Passy.—Now go. No: I am not mad: not in the least!'

'Will you let me fetch a doctor?' I said.

'You will anger me in a moment!—Go and tell Starkie, and find me a nice room. I want to get there while I am sure of myself. We must think of other people as well as of ourselves.—Please go at once.' I went to Starkie and sent him into my room: then ran downstairs; found out the maitre d'hotel, and tried to explain to him that I wanted to know where I should be able to find a house agent. Seeing that I only confused the man, I came up to the room again.

Mr. Starkie was sitting beside Mr. Brooke, speaking to him earnestly—trying, I think to persuade him that he was mistaken in his idea about the small-pox. He stopped speaking as I came in.

I explained how useless it was for me to try to get what was wanted: I did not know a street in Paris, and could not speak French: Mr. Starkie had better go, and leave me here with Mr. Brooke. They both seemed to see this. Mr. Starkie jumped up, saying that of course I was quite right. It would be a dreadful waste of time for me to go, and in the end I might not be successful. Mr. Brooke thanked him.

As the door closed I sat down beside the bed.

After a little:

'I wish you would let me get a doctor,' I said.

'Not yet, not yet, useless! We shall see, boy, in a little while. I hate doctors. They are a blundering race.… But I have one or two things to say to you before you go … Bertram.'