"Are you Mr. Maturin's son?"

"No, my name's Theobald. You may have seen it down below."

"The doctor?" I said.

"His doctor," said Theobald, with a satisfied eye. "Mr.
Maturin's doctor. He is having a male nurse and attendant by my
advice, and he wants a gentleman if he can get one. I rather
think he'll see you, though he's only seen two or three all day.
There are certain questions which he prefers to ask himself, and
it's no good going over the same ground twice. So perhaps I had
better tell him about you before we get any further."

And he withdrew to a room still nearer the entrance, as I could
hear, for it was a very small flat indeed. But now two doors
were shut between us, and I had to rest content with murmurs
through the wall until the doctor returned to summon me.

"I have persuaded my patient to see you," he whispered, "but I
confess I am not sanguine of the result. He is very difficult
to please. You must prepare yourself for a querulous invalid,
and for no sinecure if you get the billet."

"May I ask what's the matter with him?"

"By all means--when you've got the billet."

Dr. Theobald then led the way, his professional dignity so
thoroughly intact that I could not but smile as I followed his