be Watson, then,' said he. I
wouldn't waste an hour in coming to him, sir, or you may not see him
alive."

I was horrified for I had heard nothing of his illness. I need not say
that I rushed for my coat and my hat. As we drove back I asked for the
details.

"There is little I can tell you, sir. He has been working at a case
down at Rotherhithe, in an alley near the river, and he has brought
this illness back with him. He took to his bed on Wednesday afternoon
and has never moved since. For these three days neither food nor drink
has passed his lips."

"Good God! Why did you not call in a doctor?"

"He wouldn't have it, sir. You know how masterful he is. I didn't
dare to disobey him. But he's not long for this world, as you'll see
for yourself the moment that you set eyes on him."

He was indeed a deplorable spectacle. In the dim light of a foggy
November day the sick room was a gloomy spot, but it was that gaunt,
wasted face staring at me from the bed which sent a chill to my heart.
His eyes had the brightness of fever, there was a hectic flush upon
either cheek, and dark crusts clung to his lips; the thin hands upon
the coverlet twitched incessantly, his voice was croaking and
spasmodic. He lay listlessly as I entered the room, but the sight of
me brought a gleam of recognition to his eyes.

"Well, Watson, we seem to have fallen upon evil days," said he in a
feeble voice, but with something of his old carelessness of manner.

"My dear fellow!" I cried, approaching him.

"Stand back! Stand right back!" said he with the sharp imperiousness
which I had associated only with moments of crisis. "If you approach
me, Watson, I shall order you out of the house."

"But why?"

"Because it is my desire. Is that not enough?"

Yes, Mrs. Hudson was right. He was more masterful than ever. It was
pitiful, however, to see his exhaustion.

"I only wished to help," I explained.

"Exactly! You will help best by doing what you are told."

"Certainly, Holmes."

He relaxed the austerity of his manner.

"You are not angry?" he asked, gasping for breath.

Poor devil, how could I be angry when I saw him lying in such a plight
before me?

"It's for your own sake, Watson," he croaked.

"For MY sake?"

"I know what is the matter with me. It is a coolie disease from
Sumatra--a thing that the Dutch know more about than we, though they
have made little of it up to date. One thing only is certain. It is