"You will not object," he added, turning courteously to Nigel, "if I stop for a moment, on the way to Downing Street, at a small private hospital?
An acquaintance of mine lies sick there and desires urgently to see me." "I am entirely at your service," Nigel assured him.
Prince Shan, with many apologies, left Nigel alone in the car outside a tall, grey house in John Street, and, preceded by the white-capped nurse who had opened the door, climbed the stairs to the first floor of the celebrated nursing home, where, after a moment's delay, he was shown into a large and airy apartment.

Immelan was in bed, looking very ill indeed.

He was pale, and his china-blue eyes, curiously protruding, were filled with an expression of haunting fear.

A puzzled doctor was standing by the bedside.

A nurse, who was smoothing the bedclothes, glanced around at Prince Shan's entrance.