"The boys will think I'm lost. I never did such a thing before."
"Where do you think you are?" inquired the physician.
"I don't know. It's a nice little hotel, but—"
"This isn't a hotel. This is a ship."
Anthony was silent for a moment. Then he sighed feebly and said:
"Doctor, you shouldn't make fun of a man at the point of death. It isn't professional."
"Fact," said the doctor, abstractedly gazing at his watch, while he held Anthony's wrist between his fingers. "We are one hundred and fifty miles out of New York. The first officer told me you were considerably intoxicated when you came aboard, but," he continued brusquely, rising and closing his watch with a snap, "you will remember it all in a little while, Mr. Locke."
"What did you call me?"
"Locke. You haven't forgotten your name, too?"
"Wait!"