I was busy with patients until dinner-time and did not see anything of Sarakoff. While working, my exhaustion and anxiety wore off, and were replaced by a mild exhilaration. One of my patients was a professor of engineering at a northern university; a brilliant young man, who, but for physical disease, had the promise of a great career before him. He had been sent to me, after having made a round of the consultants, to see if I could give him any hope as to the future. I went into his case carefully, and then addressed him a question. "What is your own view of your case, Mr. Thornduck?" He looked surprised. His face relaxed, and he smiled. I suppose he detected a message of hope in my expression. "I have been told by half-a-dozen doctors that I have not long to live, Dr. Harden," he replied. "But it is very difficult for me to grasp that view. I find that I behave as if nothing were the matter. I still go on working. I still see goals far ahead. Death is just a word--frequently uttered, it is true--but meaningless. What am I to do?" "Go on working." "And am I to expect only a short lease of life?" I rose from my writing-table and walked to the hearth. A surge of power came over me as I thought of the bacillus which was so silently and steadily advancing on Birmingham. "Do you believe in miracles?" I asked. "That is an odd question." He reflected for a time. "No, I don't think so. All one is taught now-a-days is in a contrary direction, isn't it?" "Yes, but our knowledge only covers a very small field--perhaps an artificially isolated one, too." "Then you think only a miracle will save my life?" I nodded and gazed at him. "You seem amused," he remarked quietly. "I am not amused, Mr. Thornduck. I am very happy." "Does my case interest you?" "Extremely. As a case, you are typical. Your malady is invariably fatal. It is only one of the many maladies that we know to be fatal, while we remain ignorant of all else. Under ordinary circumstances, you would have before you about three years of reasonable health and sanity." "And then?" "Well, after that you would be somewhat helpless. You would begin to employ that large section of modern civilization that deals with the somewhat helpless." I began to warm to my theme, and clasped my hands behind my back. "Yes, you would pass into that class that disproves all theories of a kindly Deity, and you would become an undergraduate in the vast and lamentable University of Suffering, through whose limitless corridors we medical men walk with weary footsteps. Ah, if only an intelligent group of scientists had had the construction of the human body to plan! Think what poor stuff it is! Think how easy it would have been to make it more enduring! The cell--what a useless fragile delicacy! And we are made of millions of these useless fragile delicacies."