He wanted to say, "Yes, get a doctor. Lorelei—" but his mouth only twitched feebly. He couldn't seem to get it to work properly.
He tried again. "Doctor."
"Yes?" A gentle, masculine voice.
He opened his eyes with an effort. There was a blurred face before him; in a moment it grew clearer. The strong, clean-shaven chin contrasted oddly with the haggard circles under the eyes. There was a clean, starched odor.
"Where am I?" he said. He tried to turn his head, but a firm hand pressed him back into the sheets.
"You're in a hospital. Just lie quietly, please."
He tried to get up again. "Where's Lorelei?"
"She's well, and you'll see her soon. Now lie quietly. You've been a very sick man."
Peter sank back in the bed. The room was coming into focus. He looked around him slowly. He felt very weak, but perfectly lucid.
"Yes...." he said. "How long have I been here, Doctor?"