Time passed. The paper slipped to the floor. A cold cigar followed it. From the depths of the chair came a faint snore …
A hand on his shoulder brought Freddie with a jerk troubled dreams. Derek was standing beside him. A tousled Derek, apparently in pain.
“Freddie!”
“Hullo!”
A spasm twisted Derek’s face.
“Have you got any pepsin?”
Derek uttered a groan. What a mocker of our petty human dignity is this dyspepsia, bringing low the haughtiest of us, less than love itself a respecter of persons. This was a different Derek from the man who had stalked stiffly from the room two hours before. His pride had been humbled upon the rack.
“Pepsin?”
Freddie blinked, the mists of sleep floating gently before his eyes. He could not quite understand what his friend was asking for. It had sounded just like pepsin, and he didn’t believe there was such a word.