"Don't think of me, I have a fair practise, but I have time for you." "Thank you, doctor. You are very kind." "Let me put down your name," I said, taking down my tablets. "My name is Philip Douglas." I noted the name, and shortly left him. I felt that in his critical condition he ought to have a nurse, but where was the money to come from to pay one? "He is no common man," I reflected. "He has been rich. His personal surroundings do not fit him." Somehow I had already come to feel an interest in my patient. There was something in his appearance that set me wondering what his past could have been. "It must have been his misfortune, not his fault," I decided, for he bore no marks of dissipation. Under favorable circumstances I felt that I could pull him through, but without careful attendance and generous living there was great doubt. What should I do? I decided to speak of his case to the Disagreeable Woman. CHAPTER XXII. I APPEAL TO THE DISAGREEABLE WOMAN. "Miss Blagden," I said when the opportunity came, "I want to interest you in a patient of mine--a gentleman to whom I was called this morning." "Speak freely, doctor. Is there anything I can do for him?" "Much, for he requires much. He is lying in a poor lodging-house grievously ill with a fever. He has little or no money, yet he must once have been in affluent circumstances. Without a trained nurse, and the comforts that only money can buy, I fear he will not live." "It is a sad case. I am willing to cooperate with you. What is your patient's name?" "Philip Douglas." "Philip Douglas!" she exclaimed, in evident excitement. "Tell me quickly, what is his appearance?" "He is a large man, of striking appearance, with full, dark eyes, who must in earlier days have been strikingly handsome." "And he is poor, and ill?" she said, breathless. "Very poor and very ill." Her breath came quick. She seemed deeply agitated. "And where is he living?" "In No. -- West Eleventh Street." "Take me there at once." I looked at her in amazement. "Dr. Fenwick," she said, "you wonder at my excitement. I will explain it. This man, Philip Douglas, and I were once engaged to be married. The engagement was broken through my fault and my folly. I have regretted it many times. I have much to answer for. I fear that I wrecked his life, and it may be too late to atone. But I will try. Lead me to him." I bowed gravely, and we set out. Arrived at the lodging-house I thought it prudent to go up alone. I feared that excitement might be bad for my patient. He was awake and resting more comfortably. "How do you feel?" I asked. "Better, doctor. Thanks to you." "Have you no relatives whom you would wish to see--or friends?" "I have no relatives in New York," he said. "Or friends?" He paused and looked thoughtful. "I don't know," he answered, slowly. "There is one--I have not seen her for many years--but it is impossible, yet I would give my life to see Jane Blagden." "Why not send for her?"