rejudice,
Walpole. What is the real work of the anti-toxin? Simply to stimulate
the phagocytes. Very well. But so long as you stimulate the phagocytes,
what does it matter which particular sort of serum you use for the
purpose? Haha! Eh? Do you see? Do you grasp it? Ever since that Ive used
all sorts of anti-toxins absolutely indiscriminately, with perfectly
satisfactory results. I inoculated the little prince with your stuff,
Ridgeon, because I wanted to give you a lift; but two years ago I
tried the experiment of treating a scarlet fever case with a sample of
hydrophobia serum from the Pasteur Institute, and it answered capitally.
It stimulated the phagocytes; and the phagocytes did the rest. That is
why Sir Patrick's father found that inoculation cured all fevers. It
stimulated the phagocytes. [He throws himself into his chair, exhausted
with the triumph of his demonstration, and beams magnificently on them].

EMMY [looking in] Mr Walpole: your motor's come for you; and it's
frightening Sir Patrick's horses; so come along quick.

WALPOLE [rising] Good-bye, Ridgeon.

RIDGEON. Good-bye; and many thanks.

B. B. You see my point, Walpole?

EMMY. He cant wait, Sir Ralph. The carriage will be into the area if he
dont come.

WALPOLE. I'm coming. [To B. B.] Theres nothing in your point:
phagocytosis is pure rot: the cases are all blood-poisoning; and the
knife is the real remedy. Bye-bye, Sir Paddy. Happy to have met you, Mr.
Blenkinsop. Now, Emmy. [He goes out, followed by Emmy].

B. B. [sadly] Walpole has no intellect. A mere surgeon. Wonderful
operator; but, after all, what is operating? Only manual labor.
Brain--BRAIN remains master of the situation. The nuciform sac is utter
nonsense: theres no such organ. It's a mere accidental kink in
the membrane, occurring in perhaps two-and-a-half per cent of the
population. Of course I'm glad for Walpole's sake that the operation
is fashionable; for he's a dear good fellow; and after all, as I always
tell people, the operation will do them no harm: indeed, Ive known the
nervous shake-up and the fortnight in bed do people a lot of good after
a hard London season; but still it's a shocking fraud. [Rising] Well,
I must be toddling. Good-bye, Paddy [Sir Patrick grunts] good-bye,
goodbye. Good-bye, my dear Blenkinsop, good-bye! Goodbye, Ridgeon. Dont
fret about your health: you know what to do: if your liver is sluggish,
a little mercury never does any harm. If you feel restles