Part 37 (1/2)

”This,” I said to myself at the third knock, ”has torn it. I shall be ploughed,” and I sent an urgent message to my chest. ”For 'eving's sake do something, you fool. Can't you hear the gentleman?” I suppose that roused it, for at the next knock he pa.s.sed on to an adjacent spot....

”Um,” he said when he called everywhere, ”um.”

”I wonder what I've done,” I thought to myself. ”I don't believe he likes my chest.”

Without a word he got out his stethoscope and began to listen to me. As luck would have it, he struck something interesting almost at once, and for what seemed hours he stood there listening and listening to it. But it was boring for me, because I really had very little to do. I could have bitten him in the neck with some ease ... or I might have licked his ear. Beyond that, nothing seemed to offer.

I moistened my lips and spoke.

”Am I dying?” I asked in a broken voice.

”Don't talk,” he said. ”Just breathe naturally.”

”I am dying,” I thought, ”and he is hiding it from me.” It was a terrible reflection.

”Um,” he said, and moved on.

By-and-by he went and listened behind my back. It is very bad form to listen behind a person's back. I did not tell him so however. I wanted him to like me.

”Yes,” he said. ”Now cough.”

”I haven't a cough,” I pointed out.

”Make the noise of coughing,” he said severely.

Extremely nervous, I did my celebrated imitation of a man with an irritating cough.

”H'm! h'm! h'm! h'm!”

”Yes,” said the doctor. ”Go on.”

”He likes it,” I said to myself, ”and he must obviously be an excellent judge. I shall devote more time to mimicry in future. H'm! h'm! h'm!...”

The doctor came round to where I could see him again.

”Now cough like this,” he said. ”Honk! Honk!”

I gave my celebrated imitation of a sick rhinoceros gasping out its life. It went well. I got an encore.

”Um,” he said gravely, ”um.” He put his stethoscope away and looked earnestly at me.

”Tell me the worst,” I begged. ”I'm not bothering about this stupid insurance business now. That's off, of course. But--how long have I? I must put my affairs in order. Can you promise me a week?”

He said nothing. He took my wrists in his hands and pressed them. It was evident that grief over-mastered him and that he was taking a silent farewell of me. I bowed my head. Then, determined to bear my death-sentence like a man, I said firmly, ”So be it,” and drew myself away from him.

However, he wouldn't let me go.

”Come, come,” I said to him, ”you must not give way,” and I made an effort to release one of my hands meaning to pat him encouragingly on the shoulder.