I hoped that he would not remember me, but, like many great men, he
had a disconcertingly good memory for faces.

"Ah!" he said, "I've seen ye before."

"You have, sir."

"You are the callant who told me that the medulla oblongata--"

"Please--" I entreated.

Perhaps he would not have let me off had not Sir Cyril stood
immediately behind him. The impresario explained that Toddy MacWhister
(the impresario did not so describe him) had been in the audience, and
had offered his services.

"What is it?" asked Toddy, approaching Alresca.

"Fracture of the femur."

"Simple, of course."

"Yes, sir, but so far as I can judge, of a somewhat peculiar nature.
I've sent round to King's College Hospital for splints and bandages."

Toddy took off his coat.

"We sha'n't need ye, Sir Cyril," said he casually.

And Sir Cyril departed.