"
That evening, about ten o'clock, Sir Ivor strolled up to me in the
smoking-room with affected unconcern. He laid his hand on my arm and
drew me aside mysteriously. The ship's doctor was there, playing a quiet
game of poker with a few of the passengers. "I beg your pardon, Dr.
Cumberledge," he began, in an undertone, "could you come outside with me
a minute? Lady Meadowcroft has sent me up to you with a message."
I followed him on to the open deck. "It is quite impossible, my dear
sir," I said, shaking my head austerely, for I divined his errand. "I
can't go and see Lady Meadowcroft. Medical etiquette, you know; the
constant and salutary rule of the profession!"
"Why not?" he asked, astonished.
"The ship carries a surgeon," I replied, in my most precise tone. "He is
a duly qualified gentleman, very able in his profession, and he ought to
inspire your wife with confidence. I regard this vessel as Dr. Boyell's
practice, and all on board it as virtually his patients."
Sir Ivor's face fell. "But Lady Meadowcroft is not at all well," he
answered, looking piteous; "and--she can't endure the ship's doctor.
Such a common man, you know! His loud voice disturbs her.
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