Hubert shook his head doubtfully. The slight cold and sore throat were ominous. His mind dwelt upon the shadow of trouble as he made his way to the hospital. There had been two fresh cases during the evening and the medical staff were looking anxious and worried. They wanted assistance badly, and Hubert gave his to the full. It was nearly eleven before Hubert staggered home. In the main business street of the suburb a news-shop was still open. A flaming placard attracted the doctor's attention. It struck him like a blow. "Alarming illness of the Asturian Emperor. His Majesty stricken down by the new disease. Latest bulletin from Buckingham Palace." Almost mechanically Hubert bought a paper. There was not much beyond the curt information that the Emperor was dangerously ill. Arrived home Hubert found a telegram awaiting him. He tore it open. The message was brief but to the point. "Have been called in to Buckingham Palace, Label's diphtheria certain. Shall try and see you to-morrow morning. Label." London was touched deeply and sincerely. A great sovereign had come over here in the most friendly fashion to show his good feeling for a kindred race. On the very start of a round of pleasure he had been stricken down like this. The public knew all the details from the progress of that fateful uniform to the thrilling eight o'clock bulletin when the life of Rudolph III. was declared to be in great danger. They knew that Dr. Label had been sent for post haste. The big German was no longer looked upon as a clever crank, but the one man who might be able to save London from a terrible scourge. And from lip to lip went the news that over two hundred cases of the new disease had now broken out in Devonshire Park. People knew pretty well what it was and what was the cause now. Label's warning had come home with a force that nobody had expected. He had stolen away quite late for half-an-hour to his own house and there had been quite free with the pressmen. He extenuated nothing. The thing was bad, and it was going to be worse. So far as he could see, something of this kind was inevitable. If Londoners were so blind as to build houses on teeming heaps of filth, why, London must be prepared to take the consequences. Hubert knew nothing of this. He had fallen back utterly exhausted in his chair with the idea of taking a short rest--for nearly three hours he had been fast asleep. Somebody was shaking him roughly. He struggled back to the consciousness that Label was bending over him. "Well, you are a nice fellow," the German grumbled. "I was dead beat and worn out," Hubert said apologetically. "How is the Emperor?" "His Majesty is doing as well as I can expect. It is a very bad case, however. I have left him in competent hands, so that I could run down here. They were asking for you at the hospital, presuming that you were busy somewhere. The place is full, and so are four houses in the nearest terrace." "Spreading like that?" Hubert exclaimed.