"Yes," said Peter languidly. "But it came out again, I think."

"So it seems. Didn't they discover that down there?"

Peter moved his head limply, meaning "No."

"But you did, did you? Well, why didn't you say so? Didn't want to have
it hauled at again, I suppose? Well, we'll have it in directly. You won't
feel it much."

So the business was gone through again, and this time Peter not only half
but quite groaned, because it didn't matter now.

When the thing was done, and Peter rigid and swathed in bed, the doctor
was recalled from the door by a faint voice saying, "Will you please not
tell anyone it came out again?"

"Why not?" The doctor was puzzled.

"Don't know," said Peter, after finding that he couldn't think of a
reason. But then he gave the true one.

"Urquhart thought he'd got it in all right, that's all."

"Oh." The doctor was puzzled still. "But that's Urquhart's business, not
yours. It wasn't your fault, you know."

"Please," said Peter from the bed. "Do you mind?"