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Symington-Tearle usually had a most irritating effect upon me, but at the moment I felt totally indifferent to him. He entered in his customary manner, as if the whole of London were feverishly awaiting him. I introduced Sarakoff, but Symington-Tearle hardly noticed him. "Harden," he exclaimed in his loud dominating tones, "I am convinced that there is no such thing as this Blue Disease.
I sat down at the table, and for some time the three of us gazed at one another and said nothing. The spirit-lamp that heated the silver dish of bacon upon the table spurted at intervals and I saw Symington-Tearle stare at it in faint surprise. "Does it sound very loud?" asked Sarakoff at length. "Extraordinarily loud. And upon my soul your voice nearly deafens me." "It will pass," I said.
Here is my card with the address. I'll expect you in half-an-hour, and it will be well worth while your coming." Symington-Tearle moved away, and a sudden spasm of jealousy affected me as I watched the well-shaped top-hat glittering down the street in the strong sunlight.
To me, owing to some mysterious change that I cannot explain, the clock had ceased to be a tyrannous and hateful monster. I did not care how fast it went or to what hour it pointed. Time was no longer precious, any more than the sand of the sea is precious. "Aren't you going to have any breakfast?" asked Symington-Tearle. "I'm not in the least hurry," replied Sarakoff.
"I think I'll take a sip of coffee. Are you hungry, Harden?" "No. I don't want anything save coffee. But I'm in no hurry." My housemaid entered and announced that the gentleman who had been waiting in Dr. Symington-Tearle's car, and was now in the hall, wished to know if the doctor would be long. "Oh, that is a patient of mine," said Symington-Tearle, "ask him to come in."
You were the most over-conscientious man I ever knew until this morning." For some reason I found this observation very interesting. I wished to discuss it, and I was about to reply when the door opened and my housemaid announced that Dr. Symington-Tearle was in the hall and would like an immediate interview. "Shew him in," I said equably.
I suppose you caught it from Wain, as we did." I picked up one of his hands and pointed to the faintly-tinted fingernails. Dr. Symington-Tearle stared at them with an air of such child-like simplicity and gravity that Sarakoff and I broke into loud laughter. The humour of the situation passed with a peculiar suddenness and we ceased laughing abruptly.
He twisted his hat round several times in his hands and drew his brows together, puzzled at the speed of his ideas. Then he remembered the card that Symington-Tearle had given him. He pulled it out and examined it. "I'm going across to see this gent," he announced. "It's convenient, 'im living so close. Perhaps he'll 'ave a word to say about this 'ere disease.
Symington-Tearle had left us a man deeply amazed and totally incredulous. I noticed that Sarakoff scarcely smoked at all during that morning. As a rule his pipe was never out. He was in the habit of consuming two ounces of tobacco a day, which in my opinion was suicidal. He certainly lit his pipe several times, mechanically, but laid it aside almost immediately.
Then a tall man, in morning coat and top-hat, pushed his way through and touched the man from Birmingham on the shoulder. "Can you come to my house?" he asked in an undertone. "I am a doctor and would like to examine you." I shifted my gaze and recognized Dr. Symington-Tearle. The man pointed to his boards. "How about them things?" "Oh, you can get rid of them. I'll pay you.
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