“Oughtn’t he to have a doctor?” asked Carroll. “Shall I go for one?”
“His mother has sent. No use, though.”
“He can’t be saved?”
“Not a chance on earth. I should say he was in the last stages.”
“What is it?” said Carroll hesitantly.
“La muerte negra. The black death.”
“Plague?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure? Are you an expert?”
“One doesn’t have to be to recognize a case like that. The lump in the armpit is as big as a pigeon’s egg.”