swinging coat-tails to the sick-room. I carried no smile across
the threshold of a darkened chamber which reeked of drugs and
twinkled with medicine bottles, and in the middle of which a
gaunt figure lay abed in the half-light.

"Take him to the window, take him to the window," a thin voice
snapped, "and let's have a look at him. Open the blind a bit.
Not as much as that, damn you, not as much as that!"

The doctor took the oath as though it had been a fee. I no
longer pitied him. It was now very clear to me that he had one
patient who was a little practice in himself. I determined
there and then that he should prove a little profession to me,
if we could but keep him alive between us. Mr. Maturin,
however, had the whitest face that I have ever seen, and his
teeth gleamed out through the dusk as though the withered lips
no longer met about them; nor did they except in speech; and
anything ghastlier than the perpetual grin of his repose I defy
you to imagine. It was with this grin that he lay regarding me
while the doctor held the blind.

"So you think you could look after me, do you?"

"I'm certain I could, sir."

"Single-handed, mind! I don't keep another soul. You would
have to cook your own grub and my slops. Do you think you could
do all that?"

"Yes, sir, I think so."