"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."
"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.
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