go to the hospital; but you'd better send word to his
friends."

"'E ain't got no friends. And _I_ dunno 'oo 'e is."

The doctor said to himself, "Gone under," and looked round him for a
clue. He examined a postcard from Spinks and a parcel (containing an
overcoat) from Rankin, with the novelist's name and address inside the
wrapper. The poet's name was familiar to the doctor, who read
_Metropolis_. He first of all made arrangements for removing his
patient to the hospital. Then in his uncertainty he telegraphed to
Jewdwine, to Rankin and to Spinks.

The news of Rickman's illness was thus spread rapidly among his
friends. It brought Spinks that afternoon, and Flossie, the poor
Beaver, dragged to Howland Street by her husband to see what her
woman's hands could do. They entered upon a scene of indescribable
confusion and clangour. Poppy Grace, arrived on her errand (for which
she had attired herself in a red dress and ermine tippet), had mounted
guard over the unconscious poet.

"Ricky," cried Poppy, bending over him, "won't you speak to me? It's
Poppy, dear. Don't you know me?"

"No, 'e don't know yer, so you needn't arsk 'im."

Poppy placed her minute figure defiantly between Rickman and her rival
of the open door. She had exhausted her emotions in those wild cries,
and was prepared to enjoy the moment which produced in her the
hallucination of self-conscious virtue.

The woman, voluble and fierce, began to describe Miss Grace's
character in powerful but somewhat exaggerated language, appealing to
the new-comers to vindicate her accuracy. Poppy seated herself on the
bed and held a pocket-handkerchief to her virtuous nose. It was the
dumb and dignified rebuke of Propriety in an ermine tippet, to Vice
made manifest in the infamy of rags. The Beaver retreated in terror on
to the landing, where she stood clutching the little basket of jellies
and things which she had brought, as if she feared that it might be
torn from her in the violence of the scene. Spinks, convulsed with
anguish by the sight of his friend lying there unconscious, could only
offer an inarticulate expostulation. It was the signal for the woman
to burst into passionate self-defence.

"I ain't took nothing 'cept wot the boss 'e myde me. 'Go fer a
doctor?' ses 'e. 'No you don't. I don't 'ave no ----y doctor messing
round 'ere an' cartin' 'im orf to the 'orspital afore 'e's paid 'is
rent.' Ses 'e 'I'm--"

The entrance of Maddox and Rankin checked