"To do otherwise, I feel, would be to let him down."

 

"Of course, Mr Stevens."

 

I turned away, the bottle of port still on my tray, and re-entered the smoking

room.

 

That relatively small room appeared to be a forest of black dinner jackets, grey

hair and cigar smoke. I wended my way past the gentlemen, searching for glasses

to replenish. M. Dupont tapped my shoulder and said:

 

"Butler, have you seen to my arrangements?"

 

"I am very sorry, sir, but assistance is not immediately available at this

precise moment."

 

"What do you mean, butler? You've run out of basic medical supplies?"

 

"As it happens, sir, a doctor is on his way."

 

"Ah, very good! You called a doctor."

 

"Yes, sir."