“It is not your fault, Alec, don’t grieve so if she loves you⸻” but he could not finish; and as the doctor stepped swiftly into the room saying—“Ah, the fever!” I seized Jack Scott and hurried him to the street saying, “Boris would rather be alone.” We crossed the street to our own apartments and that night, seeing I was going to be ill too, he went for the doctor again. The last thing I recollect with any distinctness was hearing Jack say, “For Heaven’s sake, doctor, what ails him, to wear a face like that?” and I thought of “The King in Yellow” and the Pallid Mask.