There was no doubt about it, Paul was very ill indeed. The doctor, when he came, pronounced the young man to be in a very critical state, and gave it as his opinion that an attack of brain-fever was impending. This confidence was given to George, for whom Paul's landlady had sent at once, immediately on her lodger being brought home. The doctor--who was no other than little Doctor Prater, the well-known West-End physician, who is looked upon, and not without reason, as the medical _ami des artistes_--took George aside, and probably without knowing it, put to him as regards Paul the same question which Doctor Turton asked Oliver Goldsmith, "Whether there was anything on his mind?" The response was pretty much the same in both cases. George shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, and admitted that his friend had been "rather upset lately." "Ah, my dear sir," said the little doctor, "not my wish to pry into these matters; man of the world, see so much of this sort of thing in the pursuance of a large practice, could tell at once that our poor friend had some mental shock. Lady, I suppose? Ah well, must not inquire; generally is at his time of life; later, digestion impaired, bank broken; but in youth generally a lady. I am afraid he is going to be very bad; at present _agrotat animo magis quam corpore_, as the Latin poet says; but he will be very bad, I have not the least doubt." "It's a bad business," said George dolefully, "a very bad business. He ought to be nursed, of course; and though I have heard him speak of the woman of the house as kind and attentive and all that, I don't know that one could expect her to give her time to attend to a sick man." "Our young friend will require a good deal of attention, my dear sir," said the little doctor; "for night-work, at all events, he must have some professional person. What did you say our young friend's name was? Mr. Derinzy. Ah, the name is familiar to me as--yes, to be sure, great house in the City, millionaire and that kind of thing; and your name, my dear sir?" "My name is Wainwright," said George, smiling in spite of himself at the little man's volubility.