“If you’re satisfied, Dr. Manningtree, I am. If I’m to see those other fellers.”
“I’ve got all the papers in my room,” said the doctor.
“Right-o,” said the pasty-faced man.
“It’s very good of you to come to-day. I wouldn’t have bothered you until to-morrow but we are really getting overcrowded here. One chap’s decidedly dangerous. The attendants here don’t like the look of him. You need only just see him for a moment. Or any of them. All clear cases for summary reception orders.”
They spoke now as if Sargon were not present or as if he were an inanimate object. And indeed for them he had become so; he had passed for them already out of the comity of mankind.
“Why have you been talking to me?” asked Sargon suddenly with a vague fear of what had been said and done developing in his mind.
The doctor’s manner altered. He spoke to Sargon as one might speak to a small child. “You’ll be going back to bed now,” he said. “Jordan!”
“But I want to know.”
“Go with Mr. Jordan.”
“What are these papers you speak about?”