For Hal, stricken with his first experience of that black, descending mist which is just short of unconsciousness, had clutched at the other's shoulder to steady himself.
"Where?" he gasped.
"I won't tell you," retorted the Doctor viciously. "You might make another article out of that, of the kind you enjoy so much."
But this was too ghastly a joke. Hal straightened, and lifted his head to an eye-level with his denouncer. "Enjoy!" he said, in a low tone. "You may guess how much when I tell you that I've loved Esmé with every drop of my blood since the first time I ever spoke with her."
The Doctor's grim regard softened a little. "If I tell you, you won't publish it? Or give it away? Or try to communicate with her? I won't have her pestered."
"My word of honor."
"She's at the typhus hospital."
"And she's got typhus?" groaned Hal.
"No. Who said she had it? She's been exposed to it."
Hardly was the last word out of his mouth when he was alone. Hal had made a dash for a taxi. "Health Bureau," he cried.