“Cold water, sir?” said the man gravely.
“Well, a bowl of water, my man. I’ll bring in something to make it evaporate more quickly.”
The doctor went to where his case lay in a corner of his room, and rapidly prepared a sedative draught, took up a bottle, and returned to the professor, to find Sam waiting with bowl of water and cloths.
“He’s babbling about Harry and that plan of his,” said the professor.
“No wonder, poor fellow! Raise him up a little. I daresay he will drink this quietly enough.”
“One moment, sir,” said Sam hurriedly. “Me, please,” and with an eagerness evidently intended to fully disabuse the doctor’s mind of all doubts regarding his fear of infection, Sam went behind the head of the couch and carefully raised the sick man’s head and shoulders so that he could drink easily; and this he did with avidity.
The next minute the doctor had half emptied a bottle into the water, which gave forth a peculiar, pungent odour on Sam wringing out a handkerchief; and this was spread across the poor fellow’s temples and afterwards kept moist.
“Just at the most unlucky time,” said the professor,
with a sigh, as they sat near, watching the patient, who had sunk into the desired sleep; “but we must make the best of it. Here, Sam, we must eat and drink whatever happens.”