He shifted his position in the berth, and a twinge of pain passed through his foot, hurting horribly.
When he rose to dress, he found some difficulty in putting on his boot.

On leaving the train at Geneva he could scarcely walk.

In his room at the hotel he anointed his heel again with the Cure, and, glad to rest, sat by the window looking at the blue lake and Mont Blanc white-capped in the quivering distance, his leg supported on a chair.

Then his traveler, who had arranged to meet him by appointment, was shown into the room.

They were to lunch together.