'Are you ill?' I asked.
He started and laughed.
'Oh, it is nothing.—We are to have a fine day for our journey. See how the sun is shining through the mist! It must be quite clear out in the country.… Do you know what time we get to Dover, Starkie?'
There was a door between Mr. Brooke's room and mine at the Hotel de Manchester in Paris. We had it opened, and talked as we were dressing for dinner. He was instructing me in the programme that had to be gone through here in Paris. I was at my glass, spoiling a white tie, when I heard him come from his room into mine, but did not turn, thinking he was only continuing the conversation. All at once I saw his face reflected beside mine. I jerked myself round.
His eyes kept opening and shutting. I caught him by the arm. He smiled at me.
'It is as I thought,' he said slowly, 'we must get out of this, boy.… That man at the station. I ran against him.'
He shuddered. I heard his teeth click as he closed his jaws.
'You are ill?'
'Yes. That man! It went through me like Weland's sword. Oh, the horrible smell!'
'You think you have caught the small-pox?' I said.
'I do not think: I know. How weak my eyes are. I could almost fancy I saw motes before.… What folly!'
'It is the crossing,' I said. 'You will be all right soon.'
'The crossing? An old sailor like me? Pooh! And yet'
He began to consider to himself:
'And yet … how possibly …'
I caught him by the arm:
'Stop: stop!' I said. 'You will give yourself the small-pox if you go on at that rate.—Have you been vaccinated?'
He moved from me, saying, with great calmness:
'Not I! Nonsense, every bit of it! I never wanted to have all the vile diseases flesh is heir to pumped in-
