Two chambermaids were standing at a respectful distance, watching his efforts in

some awe. I went to my father and releasing his hands from their grip on the

edge of the trolley, eased him down on to the carpet. His eyes were closed, his

face was an ashen colour, and there were beads of sweat on his forehead. Further

assistance was called, a bath-chair arrived in due course, and my father was

transported up to his room.

 

Once my father had been laid in his bed, I was a little uncertain as to how to

proceed; for while it seemed undesirable that I leave my father in such a

condition, I did not really have a moment more to spare. As I stood hesitating

in the doorway, Miss Kenton appeared at my side and said: "Mr Stevens, I have a

little more time than you at the moment. I shall, if you wish, attend to your

father. I shall show Dr

 

Meredith up and notify you if he has anything noteworthy to say."

 

"Thank you, Miss Kenton," I said, and took my leave.

 

When I returned to the drawing room, a clergyman was talking about the hardships

being suffered by children in Berlin. I immediately found myself more than

occupied replenishing the guests with tea and coffee. A few of the gentlemen, I

noticed, were drinking spirits, and one or two, despite the presence of the two

ladies, had started to smoke. I was, I recall, leaving the drawing room with an

empty teapot in my hand when Miss Kenton stopped me and said: "Mr Stevens, Dr

Meredith is just leaving now."