"The steward said you wanted me," he began.
"No; I want a doctor."
"I am the doctor."
"I thought you were the elevator man. I'm sick—awful sick—"
"Can you vomit?"
"Certainly! Anybody can do that."
The stranger pulled up a stool, seated himself beside the bed, then felt of Anthony's cheek.
"You have a fever."
"That explains everything." Kirk sighed thankfully and closed his eyes once more, for the doctor had begun to revolve slowly, with the bed as an axis. "How are the other boys coming on?"
"Everybody is laid out. It's a bad night."