He still fought bravely against the feeling of lassitude and nausea which oppressed him, and went down to his lunch with a bold front, although the place seemed floating around him.

But in vain did the odour of the Wallaby soup ascend to his nostrils; in vain was the roast fowl spread before him.
He scarcely tasted the viands which the attentive waiter continued to press upon him; and at last, pushing his plate away, he rose from the table.
"I shall want writing materials and some labels on my return," he said, as he left the room with a somewhat unsteady step.
"On the razzle-dazzle last night, I expect," said the waiter, with a wink at his fellow.
The fresh air seemed to relieve Cardo, in some degree, of the weight which dragged him down; he was even well enough to notice that the uneven streets were more like those of an old-fashioned English town than anything he had expected to find in Australia.

But this feeling of relief did not last long.

In the street which led down to the quay he observed a chemist's shop, and, entering it, asked for a "draught or pick-me-up" of some kind.
"I feel awfully seedy," he said, sinking into a chair.
"Yes, you look it," said the chemist; "what's wrong ?" "I think I must give in," said Cardo, "for I believe I am sickening for typhoid fever." The chemist looked grave.
"I advise you to go home at once, and to bed." "Yes," replied Cardo, trying to rise to the emergency, and still manfully struggling against the disease which threatened him.

"Yes, I will go home," he said again, walking out of the shop.