“I’mill。”hesaid，“I’mdamnablyill！Icanfeelitinmyskin！”
　　Then——itwashorribletome——hecried，“Ioughttobeinbed；I
　　oughttobeinbed。insteadofflyingabout。”andsuddenlyheburstintotears。
　　Istoodup。“Gotosleep，man！”Isaid，andtooktherugfromhim，andspreaditoutandrolledhimupinit。
　　“It’sallverywell。”heprotested；“I’mnotyoungenough——“
　　“Liftupyourhead。”Iinterrupted，andputhisknapsackunderit。
　　“They’llcatchushere，justasmuchasinaninn。”hegrumbledandthenlaystill。
　　Presently，afteralongtime，Iperceivedhewasasleep。Hisbreathcamewithpeculiarwheezings，andeverynowandagainhewouldcough。Iwasverystiffandtiredmyself，andperhapsI
　　dozed。Idon’tremember。Irememberonlysitting，asitseemed，nighinterminably，besidehim，toowearyeventothinkinthatsandydesolation。
　　Noonecamenearus；nocreature，notevenadog。Irousedmyselfatlast，feelingthatitwasvaintoseektoseemotherthanabnormal，andwithaneffortthatwaslikeliftingaskyoflead，wemadeourwaythroughthewearisomesandtoafarmhouse。ThereIfeignedevenamoreinsufficientFrenchthanIpossessnaturally，andletitappearthatwewerepedestriansfromBiarritzwhohadlostourwayalongtheshoreandgotbenighted。
　　Thisexplainedusprettywell，Ithought，andwegotmosthearteningcoffeeandacarttoalittleroadsidestation。Myunclegrewmoreandmoremanifestlyillwitheverystageofourjourney。IgothimtoBayonne，whereherefusedatfirsttoeat，andwasafterwardsverysick，andthentookhimshiveringandcollapsedupalittlebranchlinetoafrontierplacecalledLuzonGare。
　　Wefoundonehomelyinnwithtwosmallbedrooms，keptbyakindlyBasquewoman。Igothimtobed，andthatnightsharedhisroom，andafteranhourorsoofsleephewokeupinaragingfeverandwithawanderingmind，cursingNealandrepeatinglong，inaccuratelistsoffigures。Hewasmanifestlyacaseforadoctor，andinthemorningwegotonein。HewasayoungmanfromMontpelier，justbeginningtopractise，andverymysteriousandtechnicalandmodernandunhelpful。Hespokeofcoldandexposure，andlagrippeandpneumonia。Hegavemanyexplicitanddifficultdirections。Iperceiveditdevolveduponmetoorganisenursingandasick-room。Iinstalledareligieuseinthesecondbedroomoftheinn，andtookaroomformyselfintheinnofPortdeLuzon，aquarterofamileaway。
　　Andnowmystoryconvergesonwhat，inthatqueercornerofrefugeoutoftheworld，wasdestinedtobemyuncle’sdeathbed。
　　ThereisabackgroundofthePyrenees，ofbluehillsandsunlithouses，oftheoldcastleofLuzonandanoisycascadingriver，andforaforegroundthedim，stuffyroomwhosewindowsboththereligieuseandhostessconspiredtoshut，withitswaxedfloor，itsfour-posterbed，itscharacteristicallyFrenchchairsandfireplace，itschampagnebottlesanddirtybasinsandusedtowelsandpacketsofSomatoseonthetable。Andinthesicklyairoftheconfinedspaceinbehindthecurtainsofthebedlaymylittleuncle，withaneffectofbeingenthronedandsecluded，orsatup，orwrithedandtossedinhislastdealingsoflife。Onewentanddrewbacktheedgeofthecurtainsifonewantedtospeaktohimorlookathim。
　　Usuallyhewasproppedupagainstpillows，becausesohebreathedmoreeasily。Heslepthardlyatall。
　　Ihaveaconfusedmemoryofvigilsandmorningsandafternoonsspentbythatbedside，andhowthereligieusehoveredaboutme，andhowmeekandgoodandinefficientshewas，andhowhorriblyblackwerehernails。Otherfigurescomeandgo，andparticularlythedoctor，ayoungmanplumplyrococo，inbicyclingdress，withfinewaxenfeatures，alittlepointedbeard，andthelongblackfrizzyhairandhugetieofaminorpoet。Brightandclear-cutandirrelevantarememoriesoftheBasquehostessofmyuncle’sinnandofthefamilyofSpanishpeoplewhoentertainedmeandpreparedthemostamazinglyelaboratemealsforme，withsoupandsaladandchickenandremarkablesweets。
　　Theywereallverykindandsympatheticpeople，systematicallyso。Andconstantly，withoutattractingattention，Iwastryingtogetnewspapersfromhome。
　　Myuncleiscentraltoalltheseimpressions。
　　Ihavetriedtomakeyoupicturehim，timeaftertime，astheyoungmanoftheWimblehurstchemist’sshop，astheshabbyassistantinTottenhamCourtRoad，astheadventureroftheearlydaysofTono-Bungay，astheconfident，preposterousplutocrat。
　　AndnowIhavetotellofhimstrangelychangedundertheshadowofoncomingdeath，withhisskinlaxandyellowandglisteningwithsweat，hiseyeslargeandglassy，hiscountenanceunfamiliarthroughthegrowthofabeard，hisnosepinchedandthin。Neverhadhelookedsosmallasnow。Andhetalkedtomeinawhispering，strainedvoiceofgreatissues，ofwhyhislifehadbeen，andwhitherhewasgoing。Poorlittleman！thatlastphaseis，asitwere，disconnectedfromalltheotherphases。Itwasasifhecrawledoutfromtheruinsofhiscareer，andlookedabouthimbeforehedied。Forhehadquiteclear-mindedstatesintheintervalsofhisdelirium。
　　Heknewhewasalmostcertainlydying。Inawaythattooktheburthenofhiscaresoffhismind。TherewasnomoreNealtoface，nomoreflightsorevasions，nopunishments。
　　“Ithasbeenagreatcareer，George。”hesaid，“butIshallbegladtorest。Gladtorest！。Gladtorest。”
　　Hismindranratheruponhiscareer，andusually，Iamgladtorecall，withanoteofsatisfactionandapproval。Inhisdeliriousphaseshewouldmostoftenexaggeratethisself-satisfaction，andtalkofhissplendours。Hewouldpluckatthesheetandstarebeforehim，andwhisperhalf-audiblefragmentsofsentences。
　　“Whatisthisgreatplace，thesecloud-cappedtowers，theseanypinnacles？。Ilion。Sky-pointing。IlionHouse，theresidenceofoneofourgreatmerchantprinces。Terraceaboveterrace。Reachingtotheheavens。KingdomsCaesarneverknew。Agreatpoet，George。Zzzz。KingdomsCaesarneverknew。Underentirelynewmanagement。
　　“Greatness。Millions。Universities。Hestandsontheterrace——ontheupperterrace——directing——directing——bytheglobe——directing——thetrade。”
　　Itwashardattimestotellwhenhissanetalkceasedandhisdeliriumbegan。Thesecretspringsofhislife，thevainimaginationswererevealed。Isometimesthinkthatallthelifeofmansprawlsabed，carelessandunkempt，untilitmustneedsclotheandwashitselfandcomeforthseemlyinactandspeechfortheencounterwithone’sfellow-men。Isuspectthatallthingsunspokeninoursoulspartakesomewhatofthelaxityofdeliriumanddementia。Certainlyfromthoseslimy，tormentedlipsabovethebristlinggreybeardcamenothingbutdreamsanddisconnectedfancies。
　　SometimesheravedaboutNeal，threatenedNeal。“Whathashegotinvested？”hesaid。“Doeshethinkhecanescapeme？。IfI
　　followedhimup。Ruin。Ruin。Onewouldthink_I_hadtakenhismoney。”
　　Andsometimesherevertedtoourairshipflight。“It’stoolong，George，toolongandtoocold。I’mtoooldaman——tooold——forthissortofthing。Youknowyou’renotsaving——you’rekillingme。”
　　Towardstheenditbecameevidentouridentitywasdiscovered。I
　　foundthepress，andespeciallyBoom’ssectionofit，hadmadeasortofhueandcryforus，sentspecialcommissionerstohuntforus，andthoughnoneoftheseemissariesreachedusuntilmyunclewasdead，onefelttheforewashofthatstormofenergy。
　　ThethinggotintothepopularFrenchpress。Peoplebecamecuriousintheirmannertowardsus，andanumberoffreshfacesappearedabouttheweaklittlestrugglethatwentonintheclosenessbehindthecurtainsofthebed。Theyoungdoctorinsistedonconsultations，andamotor-carcameupfromBiarritz，andsuddenlyoddpeoplewithquestioningeyesbegantopokeinwithinquiriesandhelp。Thoughnothingwassaid，Icouldfeelthatwewerenolongerregardedassimplemiddle-classtourists；
　　aboutme，asIwent，Iperceivedalmostasthoughittrailedvisibly，theprestigeofFinanceandacriminalnotoriety。Localpersonagesofaplumpandprosperousqualityappearedintheinnmakinginquiries，theLuzonpriestbecamehelpful，peoplewatchedourwindow，andstaredatmeasIwenttoandfro；andthenwehadaraidfromalittleEnglishclergymanandhisamiable，capablewifeinseverelyAnglicanblacks，whoswoopeddownuponuslikevirtuousbutresolutevulturesfromtheadjacentvillageofSaintJeandePollack。
　　TheclergymanwasoneofthoseoddtypesthatoscillatebetweenremotecountrytownsinEnglandandtheconductofEnglishChurchservicesonmutualtermsinenterprisinghotelsabroad，atremulous，obstinatelittlebeingwithsporadichairsuponhisface，spectacles，aredbuttonnose，andagedblackraiment。Hewasevidentlyenormouslyimpressedbymyuncle’smonetarygreatness，andbyhisowninklingofouridentity，andheshoneandbrimmedoverwithtactandfussyhelpfulness。Hewaseagertosharethewatchingofthebedsidewithme，heprofferedserviceswithbothhands，andasIwasnowgettingintotouchwithaffairsinLondonagain，andtryingtodisentanglethegiganticdetailsofthesmashfromthepapersIhadsucceededingettingfromBiarritz，Iacceptedhisoffersprettygenerously，andbeganthestudiesinmodernfinancethatlaybeforeme。I
　　hadgotsooutoftouchwiththeoldtraditionsofreligionthatIoverlookedthemanifestpossibilityofhisattackingmypoor，sinkingvestigesofanunclewiththeologicalsolicitudes。Myattentionwascalledtothat，however，veryspeedilybyapolitebuturgentquarrelbetweenhimselfandtheBasquelandladyastothenecessityofherhangingacheapcrucifixintheshadowoverthebed，whereitmightcatchmyuncle’seye，where，indeed，I