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Rh not failed, and sure enough late that evening I was telephoned for to go to the hotel.

"M'sieur's friend is far from well, I fear," the hotel manager informed me as I entered. "He wishes to see you."

I went up, and found a doctor there. The patient was tossing about in bed with a nasty little hacking cough and was short of breath.

"I'm bad, boy," he said. "Devilish queer. God knows what's the matter. You'll keep an eye on me, won't you? I'm very much alone, old chap, if anything's wrong," and his voice broke. It was the first time he had ever shown me any emotion. I think he knew he was very ill.

"Serious case, m'sieur," the French doctor told me afterwards downstairs, "and curiously enough I have got another patient here—a waiter—just the same thing, an acute form of pneumonia, I fear. I hope not of an infectious nature. If it is, mon Dieu! everybody in the hotel may be affected. Be very careful yourself when you're in his room," he urged.

It had not struck me before that I might start a series of infectious cases, and the thought gave me a queer turn. It was more than I had bargained for. I was young then. But that feeling very soon wore off.