Mrs. Jakes sighed and fidgeted.
"Oh, Mr. Samson," she said. "What can I say to you?"
"Say 'good-morning,'" suggested Mr. Samson, with his eye on Jakes. "Better send for the 'boys' to carry him up to bed, to begin with—what? Well, Ford, here I am, ready and waiting. This the fellow, eh?"
His arrogant gaze rested on the Kafir intolerantly.
"This is Kamis," said Ford. "Dr. Kamis, of London, by the way. He is treating Miss Harding at present."
"Eh?" Mr. Samson turned on him abruptly. "You 've taken him up there, to her room?"
"No," said Ford. "Not yet."
"See you don't, then," said Mr. Samson strongly. "What you thinkin' about, Ford? And look here, what 's your name!"—to the Kafir. "You speak English, don't you? Well, I don't want to hurt your feelin's, you know, but you 've got to understand quite plainly—"
Kamis interrupted him suavely.
"You need n't trouble," he said. "I quite agree with you. I was just telling Mr. Ford the same thing."