“Isthereanythingmore，“thedoctorasked，“thatcanbedoneforyourcomfort？“
“Nothingatpresent，“Mr。Dunsterreplied。“Myheadachesnow，butIthinkthatIshallwanttoleavebeforethreedaysareup。Areyouthedoctorintheneighbourhood？“
Sarsonshookhishead。
“IamphysiciantoMr。Fentolin’shousehold，“heansweredquietly。
“Ilivehere。Mr。Fentolinishimselfsomewhatofaninvalidandrequiresconstantmedicalattention。“
Mr。Dunstercontemplatedthespeakersteadfastly。
“Youwillforgiveme，“hesaid。“IamanAmericanandIamusedtoplainspeech。Iamquiteunusedtobeingattendedbystrangedoctors。Iunderstandthatyouarenotingeneralpracticenow。
MightIaskifyouarefullyqualified？“
“IamanM。D。ofLondon，“thedoctorreplied。“Youcanmakeyourselfquiteeasyastomyqualifications。ItwouldnotsuitMr。Fentolin’spurposetoentrusthimselftothecareofanyonewithoutareputation。“
Helefttheroom，andMr。Dunsterclosedhiseyes。Hisslumbers，however，werenotaltogetherpeacefulones。Allthetimethereseemedtobeahammeringinsidehishead，andfromsomewherebackinhisobscuredmemorythenameofFentolinseemedtobecontinuallyassertingitself。Fromsomewhereorother，theamazingsensewhichsometimesgiveswarningofdangertomenofadventure，seemedtohaveopeneditsfeelers。Herestedbecausehewasexhausted，buteveninhissleephewasillatease。
Thedoctor，withthetelegramsinhishand，madehiswaydownasplendidstaircase，pastthelongpicturegallerywheremasterpiecesofVanDyckandRubensfrownedandleereddownuponhim；descendedthefinalstretchofbroadoakstairs，crossedthehail，andenteredhismaster’srooms。Mr。Fentolinwassittingbeforetheopenwindow，aneaselinfrontofhim，apaletteinhislefthand，paintingwithdeft，swifttouches。
“Ah！“heexclaimed，withoutlookingaround，“itismyfriendthedoctor，myfriendSarson，M。D。ofLondon，L。R。C。P。andalltherestofit。Hebringswithhimtheodourofthesickroom。Foramomentortwo，justforamoment，dearfriend，donotdisturbme。
Donotbringanyalienthoughtsintomybrain。Iamabsorbed，yousee-absorbed。Itisastrangeproblemofcolour，this。“
Hewassilentforseveralmoments，glancingrepeatedlyoutofthewindowandbacktohiscanvas，paintingallthetimewithswiftanddelicateprecision。
“Meekins，whostandsbehindmychair，“Mr。Fentolincontinued，“evenMeekinsisentranced。Hehasasoul，myfriendSarson，althoughyoumightnotthinkit。He，too，seessometimesthecolourintheskies，theglitteruponthesands，theclear，sweetpurityofthoselongstretchesofvirginwater。Meekins，Ibelieve，hasasoul，onlyhelikesbettertoseethesethingsgrowunderhismaster’stouchthantowanderaboutandsolvetheirriddlesforhimself。“
Themanremainedperfectlyimmovable。Notafeaturetwitched。Yetitwasafactthat，althoughhestoodwhereMr。Fentolincouldnotpossiblyobservehim，heneverremovedhisgazefromthecanvas。
“Yousee，mymedicalfriend，thattherehasbeenagreattideinthenight，followingupontheflood？Evenoursmalllandmarksareshifted。Soon，inmylittlecarriage，IshallridedowntotheTower。Ishallsitthere，andIshallwatchthesea。Ithinkthatthisevening，withtheturnofthetide，thespraymayreacheventomywindowsthere。Ishallpaintagain。Thereisalwayssomethingfreshinthesea，youknow-alwayssomethingfreshinthesea。Likeahumanface-angryorpleased，sullenorjoyful。
Somepeopleliketopainttheseaatitscalmestandmostbeautiful。
Somepeopleliketoseehappyfacesaroundthem。Itisnoteveryonewhoappreciatestheotherthings。Itisnotquitelikethatwithme，eh，Sarson？“
Hishandfelltohisside。Momentarilyhehadfinishedhiswork。
Heturnedaroundandeyedthedoctor，whostoodintaciturnsilence。
“Answer。Answerme，“heinsisted。
Thedoctor’sgloomyfaceseemeddarkerstill。
“Youhavespokenthetruth，Mr。Fentolin，“headmitted。“Youarenotoneofthevulgarherdwholovetoconsortwithpleasureandhappiness。Youareoneofthosewhounderstandthebeautyofunhappiness-inothers，“headded，withfaintemphasis。
Mr。Fentolinsmiled。HisfacebecamealmostlikethefaceofoneofthoseangelsofthegreatItalianmaster。
“Howwellyouknowme！“hemurmured。“Myhumbleeffort，Doctor-howdoyoulikeit？“
Thedoctorbentoverthecanvas。
“Iknownothingaboutart，“hesaid，alittleroughly。“Yourworkseemstomeclever-alittlegrotesque，perhaps；alittlestrainingafterthehard，plainthingswhichthreaten。Nothingoftheidealistinyourwork，Mr。Fentolin。“
Mr。Fentolinstudiedthecanvashimselfforamoment。
“Acleverman，Sarson，“heremarkedcoolly，“butnocourtier。Nevermind，myworkpleasesme。Itgivesmeapassingsensationofhappiness。Now，whataboutourpatient？“
“Herecovers，“thedoctorpronounced。“Frommyshortexamination，Ishouldsaythathehadtheconstitutionofanox。Ihavetoldhimthathewillbeupinthreedays。Asamatteroffact，hewillbeable，ifhewantsto，towalkoutofthehouseto-morrow。“
Mr。Fentolinshookhishead。
“Wecannotsparehimquitesosoon，“hedeclared。“Wemustavailourselvesofthiswonderfulchanceaffordedusbymybrilliantyoungnephew。Wemustkeephimwithusforalittletime。Whatisitthatyouhaveinyourhands，Doctor？Telegrams，Ithink。Letmelookatthem。“
Thedoctorheldthemout。Mr。Fentolintookthemeagerlybetweenhisthin，delicatefingers。Suddenlyhisfacedarkened，andbecamelikethefaceofaspoiltandangrychild。
“Cipher！“heexclaimedfuriously。“Acipherwhichheknowssowellastorememberit，too！Nevermind，itwillbeeasytodecode。Itwillamusemeduringtheafternoon。Verygood，Sarson。Iwilltakechargeofthese。“
“Youdonotwishanythingdispatched？“
“Nothingatpresent，“Mr。Fentolinsighed。“Itwillbewell，I
think，forthepoormantoremainundisturbedbyanycommunicationsfromhisfriends。Isherestlessatall？“
“Hewantstogetonwithhisjourney。“
“Weshallsee，“Mr。Fentolinremarked。“Nowfeelmypulse，Sarson。
HowamIthismorning？“
Thedoctorheldthethinwristforamomentbetweenhisfingers，andletitgo。
“Inperfecthealth，asusual，“heannouncedgrimly。
“Ah，butyoucannotbesure！“Mr。Fentolinprotested。“Mytongue，ifyouplease。“
Heputitout。
“Excellent！“
“Wemustmakequitecertain，“Mr。Fentolincontinued。“Therearesomanypeoplewhowouldmissme。Myplaceintheworldwouldnotbeeasilyfiled。Undomywaistcoat，Sarson。Feelmyheart，please。
Feelcarefully。Icanseetheendofyourstethoscopeinyourpocket。Don’tscampit。Ifanciedthismorning，whenIwaslyingherealone，thattherewassomethingalmostlikeapalpitation-aquickerbeat。Beverycareful，Sarson。Now。“
Thedoctormadehisexaminationwithimpassiveface。Thenhesteppedback。
“Thereisnochangeinyourcondition，Mr。Fentolin，“heannounced。
“Thepalpitationyouspokeofisamistake。Youareinperfecthealth。“
Mr。Fentolinsighedgently。
“Then，“hesaid，“IwillnowamusemyselfbyagentleridedowntotheTower。Youareentirelysatisfied，Sarson？Youarekeepingnothingbackfromme？“
Thedoctorlookedathimwithgrim，impassiveface。“Thereisnothingtokeepback，“hedeclared。“Youhavetheconstitutionofacowboy。Thereisnoreasonwhyyoushouldnotliveforanotherthirtyyears。
Mr。Fentolinsighed，asthoughaweightbadbeenremovedfromhisheart。
“Iwillnow，“hedecided，reachingforwardforthehandleofhiscarriage，“godowntotheTower。Itisjustpossiblethatafewdays’seclusionmightbegoodforourguest。“
Thedoctorturnedsilentlyaway。Therewasnoonetheretoseehisexpressionashewalkedtowardsthedoor。