“If it's elegant distraction you want,” said he, “I can do better than that.” He planted himself in front of me. “Would you like to do a night's real work?”
“Certainly,” said I.
“A gentleman of my acquaintance named Judd is in the ramping stage of delirium tremens. He requires a couple of men to hold him down so as to prevent him from getting out of bed and smashing his furniture and his wife and things. I was going to relieve one of the fellows there now, so that he can get a few hours' sleep, and if you like to come and relieve the other, you'll be doing a good action. But I warn you it won't be funny.”
“I'm in the mood for anything,” I said.
“You'll come?”
“Of course.”
“That's splendid!” he shouted. “I hardly thought you were in earnest. Wait till I telephone for some medicine to be sent up from the dispensary. I promised to take it round with me.”
He telephoned instructions, and presently a porter brought in the medicine. Campion explained that it had been prescribed by the doctor attached to the institution who was attending the case.
“You must come and see the working of our surgery and dispensary!” he cried enthusiastically. “We charge those who can afford a sixpence for visit and medicine. Those who can't are provided, after inquiry, with coupons. We don't want to encourage the well-to-do to get their medical advice gratis, or we wouldn't be able to cope with the really poor. We pay the doctor a fixed salary, and the fees go to the general fund of the Building, so it doesn't matter a hang to him whether a patient pays or not.”
“You must be proud of all this, Campion?” I said.