It's a bad night."
"Night? It must be nearly daylight by this time."
"Oh no! It is not midnight yet."
"Not midnight? Why, I didn't turn in until--" Anthony raised
himself suddenly. "Good Lord! have I slept all day?"
"You certainly have."
"Whose room is this?"
"Your room, of course. Here, take one of these capsules; it will
settle your stomach."
"Better give me something to settle my bill if I've been here that
long. I'm broke again."
"You're not fully awake yet," said the doctor. "People have funny
ideas when they're sick."
"Well, I know I'm broke, anyhow! That's no idea; it's a condition.
I went through my clothes just now and I'm all in. I must get back
to the Astor, too, for I had arranged to motor up to New Haven at
noon."
"Let me feel your pulse," said the doctor, quietly.
"The boys will think I'm lost. I never did such a thing before."
"Where do you think you are?" inquired the physician.
"I don't know. It's a nice little hotel, but--"
"This isn't a hotel. This is a ship."
Anthony was silent for a moment. Then he sighed feebly and said:
"Doctor, you shouldn't make fun of a man at the point of death. It
isn't professional."
"Fact," said the doctor, abstractedly gazing at his watch, while
he held Anthony's wrist between his fingers.
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