Movement made him dizzy and slightly nauseous; but that was scarcely to be wondered at. He rang the bell and slumped into the chair by the dead fire. He pulled a blanket over his knees. The chair still had the straps attached to the arms. There was a spot of dried blood on the floor. He probed the crater in his mouth with the tip of his tongue. The hole was the size of a small country. There was a knock and Joseph entered the room with a jug of hot water. ‘Tea,’ Savill croaked. Joseph hesitated. ‘Doctor said you should stay in bed.’ ‘Tea.’ ‘He wants to bleed you before—’ ‘Tea, damn you,’ Savill said. ‘But stay – has the postboy collected the letters?’ ‘Yes, sir.’ He scowled at Joseph, who took this as a signal to leave the room. The time had come, Savill thought while he waited, to put an end to this catalogue of disasters, irritations and difficulties that had afflicted him since leaving Bath. He would insist on an interview with the Count this very day and retrieve the necessary papers from him.
