"
"Lay it down on the bed, and I will wrap myself in it, and the same
with the others. Now I warn you, you are not to come nearer to me
than you can help, and above all you are not to lean over me. If you
do, I will turn you out of the room and lock the door, and fight it
out by myself. Now puff away at that pipe, and the moment you wrap me
up get the room full of smoke."
John nodded.
"Don't you bother about me," he growled. "I reckon the Plague ain't
going to touch such a tough old bit of seasoned mahogany as I am.
Still, I will do as you tell me."
In a few minutes Cyril was in a profuse perspiration, in which even
his head, which was above the blankets, shared.
"That is grand," John said complacently.
The cloud of tobacco, with which the room was soon filled, was not
long in having the effect that John had predicted, and Cyril was soon
violently sick, which had the effect of further increasing the
perspiration.
"You must open the window and let the smoke out a bit, John," he
gasped. "I can't stand any more of it."
This was done, and for another hour Cyril lay between the blankets.
"I shall faint if I lie here any longer," he said at last. "Now,
John, do you go out of the room, and don't come back again until I
call you. I see you have put the vinegar handy. It is certain that if
this is doing me any good the blankets will be infected. You say you
have got a big fire in the kitchen. Well, I shall take them myself,
and hang them up in front of it, and you are not to go into the room
till they are perfectly dry again.
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