h of triumph, Doctor Emory stepped back.

"Well, go ahead with what you was goin' to do," Daughtry grumbled, the
rush of events too swift and too hidden for him to comprehend. "An' when
you're done with that, I just want you to explain what you said about
leprosy an' that nigger-boy there. He's my boy, an' you can't pull
anything like that off on him . . . or me."

"Gentlemen, you have seen," Doctor Emory said. "Two undoubted cases of
it, master and man, the man more advanced, with the combination of both
forms, the master with only the anaesthetic form--he has a touch of it,
too, on his little finger. Take them away. I strongly advise, Doctor
Masters, a thorough fumigation of the ambulance afterward."

"Look here . . . " Dag Daughtry began belligerently.

Doctor Emory glanced warningly to Doctor Masters, and Doctor Masters
glanced authoritatively at the sergeant who glanced commandingly at his
two policemen. But they did not spring upon Daughtry. Instead, they
backed farther away, drew their clubs, and glared intimidatingly at him.
More convincing than anything else to Daughtry was the conduct of the
policemen. They were manifestly afraid of contact with him. As he
started forward, they poked the ends of their extended clubs towards his
ribs to ward him off.

"Don't you come any closer," one warned him, flourishing his club with
the advertisement of braining him. "You stay right where you are until
you get your orders."

"Put on your shirt and stand over there alongside your master," Doctor
Emory commanded Kwaque, having suddenly elevated the chair and spilled
him out on his feet on the floor.

"But what under the sun . . . " Daughtry began, but was ignored by his
quondam friend, who was saying to Doctor Masters:

"The pest-house has been vacant since that Japanese died. I know the
gang of cowards in your department so I'd advise you to give the dope to
these here so that they can disinfect the premises when they go in."

"For the love of Mike," Daughtry pleaded, all of stunned belligerence
gone from him in his state of stunned conviction that the dread disease
possessed him. He touched his finger to his sensationless forehead, then
smelled it and recognized the burnt flesh he had not felt burning. "For
the love of Mike, don't be in such a rush. If I've got it, I've got it.
But that ain't no reason we can't deal with each other like white men.
Give me two hours an' I'll get outa the city. An' in