“Why have you interested yourself in the man to such an extent?” asked Carroll curiously.
“He’s a friend of mine. Why did you?”
“Oh, that’s quite different. One can’t disregard a call for help such as yours.”
“A certain kind of ‘one’ can’t,” returned the Unspeakable Perk, with his half-smile. “You don’t mind my saying, Mr. Carroll, you’re a brave man.”
“And I’d have said that you weren’t,” replied the other bluntly. “I give it up. But I know this: I’m going to be pretty wretchedly frightened until I know that I haven’t got it. I’m frightened now.”
“Then you’re a braver man than I thought. But the danger may be less than you think. Stick to that cigar—here are two more—and wait for me outside. Here’s the doctor.”
Profound and solemn under a silk hat, the local physician entered, bowing to Carroll as they passed in the hallway. Almost immediately Perkins emerged. On his face was a sardonic grin.
“Malaria,” he observed. “The learned professor assures me that it’s a typical malaria.”
“Then it isn’t the plague,” said Carroll, relieved.
His relief was of brief duration.