AMERICAN. [Making gestures] First-class typhus, black typhus, schwarzen typhus. Now you have it. I'm kind o' sorry for you and the gentleman in buttons. Do your duty!
OFFICIAL. Typhus? Der Bub—die baby hat typhus?
AMERICAN. I'm telling you.
OFFICIAL. Gott im Himmel!
AMERICAN. [Spotting the GERMAN in the little throng] here's a gentleman will corroborate me.
OFFICIAL. [Much disturbed, and signing to the POLICEMAN to stand clear] Typhus! 'Aber das ist grasslich'!
AMERICAN. I kind o' thought you'd feel like that.
OFFICIAL. 'Die Sanitatsmachine! Gleich'!
[A PORTER goes to get it. From either side the broken half-moon of persons stand gazing at the LITTLE MAN, who sits unhappily dandling the BABY in the centre.]
OFFICIAL. [Raising his hands] 'Was zu thun'?