When Dr. Biddle arrived, a hurried examination of pulse, eyes and tongue soon convinced his experienced eye that the patient had the most dreaded of diseases in the seaport of Philadelphia,—the peste. By this time the sick man was unconscious, and the Doctor turned to the servant and said:
“I am sorry to inform you, but this gentleman has the peste. Who has charge of his affairs? We shall have to procure him nurses and medicines.”
As though a thunderbolt had come out of a clear sky, James, the servant, stood speechless and perfectly colorless at this announcement. At last he regained his self-possession and said:
“I will notify Mr. Milling; he knows Mr. Barclugh best. But I can not stay here and nurse him myself. My wife and children would die of fright.”
“But,” remarked the Doctor, “you have been exposed.”
“All right! all right! Doctor, but you see there’s a mighty difference betwixt the nursing of it and the staying away from it. Let these rich men who can afford to die, be having the risks. I will go and tell Mr. Milling.”
With that he put on his hat and ran to the office of Milling & FitzMaurice, and without any ceremony rushed into the presence of Mr. Milling, simply announcing:
“Mr. Barclugh, my master, has the peste.”
James then rushed out of the office of the merchant prince, and up Front street, telling every person that he met:
“My master, Mr. Barclugh, has the peste.”