Where
ARE they? Must have quinine, you know. Eh? Zzzz.
"Lord! there's no end of things--no end of little things.
Dill-water--all the suffering babes yowling for it. Eucalyptus
again--cascara--witch hazel--menthol--all the toothache things. Then
there's antiseptics, and curare, cocaine...."
"Rather a nuisance to the doctors," I reflected.
"They got to look out for themselves. By Jove, yes. They'll do you if
they can, and you do them. Like brigands. That makes it romantic. That's
the Romance of Commerce, George. You're in the mountains there! Think
of having all the quinine in the world, and some millionaire's pampered
wife gone ill with malaria, eh? That's a squeeze, George, eh? Eh?
Millionaire on his motor car outside, offering you any price you liked.
That 'ud wake up Wimblehurst.... Lord! You haven't an Idea down here.
Not an idea. Zzzz."
He passed into a rapt dream, from which escaped such fragments as:
"Fifty per cent. advance sir; security--to-morrow. Zzzz."
The idea of cornering a drug struck upon my mind then as a sort of
irresponsible monkey trick that no one would ever be permitted to do in
reality.
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