“There’s a lot about this I don’t like,” said the second doctor and drew Dr. Martineau by the arm towards the study. For a moment or so Sir Richmond listened to the low murmur of their voices, but he did not feel very deeply interested in what they were saying. He began to think what a decent chap Dr. Martineau was, how helpful and fine and forgiving his professional training had made him, how completely he had ignored the smothered incivilities of their parting at Salisbury. All men ought to have some such training, Not a bad idea to put every boy and girl through a year or so of hospital service.... Sir Richmond must have dozed, for his next perception was of Dr. Martineau standing over him and saying “I am afraid, my dear Hardy, that you are very ill indeed. Much more so than I thought you were at first.” Sir Richmond’s raised eyebrows conveyed that he accepted this fact. “I think Lady Hardy ought to be sent for.” Sir Richmond shook his head with unexpected vigour. “Don’t want her about,” he said, and after a pause, “Don’t want anybody about.” “But if anything happens-?” “Send then.” An expression of obstinate calm overspread Sir Richmond’s face. He seemed to regard the matter as settled. He closed his eyes. For a time Dr. Martineau desisted. He went to the window and turned to look again at the impassive figure on the bed. Did Sir Richmond fully understand? He made a step towards his patient and hesitated. Then he brought a chair and sat down at the bedside. Sir Richmond opened his eyes and regarded him with a slight frown. “A case of pneumonia,” said the doctor, “after great exertion and fatigue, may take very rapid and unexpected turns.” Sir Richmond, cheek on pillow, seemed to assent. “I think if you want to be sure that Lady Hardy sees you again--... If you don’t want to take risks about that--... One never knows in these cases. Probably there is a night train.” Sir Richmond manifested no surprise at the warning. But he stuck to his point. His voice was faint but firm. “Couldn’t make up anything to say to her. Anything she’d like.” Dr. Martineau rested on that for a little while. Then he said: “If there is anyone else?” “Not possible,” said Sir Richmond, with his eyes on the ceiling. “But to see?” Sir Richmond turned his head to Dr. Martineau. His face puckered like a peevish child’s. “They’d want things said to them...Things to remember...I CAN’T. I’m tired out.” “Don’t trouble,” whispered Dr. Martineau, suddenly remorseful. But Sir Richmond was also remorseful. “Give them my love,” he said. “Best love...Old Martin. Love.”