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Rh When I called two days later I found Spencer with him. The patient was in bed suffering from spasms, especially of the muscles of deglutition and respiration, with excitement evidenced by delirium.

"This is a curious case," the smart, elderly practitioner declared, as we both stood beside the unconscious man. "At present, I've not been able to diagnose it properly."

I pretended to make an effort to diagnose it, but without avail.

Next day I called before Spencer arrived, and found Davies conscious again.

"By Jove, d'Escombe," he exclaimed. "I'm having a bad time. But you'll pull me through, won't you, old chap?" he implored me.

"Of course we'll get you right again," I assured him. Then, with a few comforting words, I left.

Really, I felt rather sorry for him, because I knew of the agony that must ensue.

On Wednesday, when I called at eleven, Spencer was again with him, but he was again unconscious.

"Rabies," declared the doctor. "Yesterday, he told me that he had been bitten by a farmer's dog while out shooting, nine months