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'Very dirty peoples；' the porter said scornfully； over his shoulder。 'No education。 French leave them dirty。 Not like British peoples。 My peoples；' he said； 'always very British peoples。'
For he was from the Sudan Police； and regarded this ancient centre of his culture as a New Zealander might regard Rome。
At length we came to the last of many studded doors； and the porter beat on it with his stick。
'British Lord's house；' he said。
Lamplight and a dark face appeared at the grating。 The consular porter spoke peremptorily； bolts were withdrawn and we entered a small courtyard with a well in its centre and a vine trained overhead。
'I wait here；' said the porter。 'You go with this native fellow。' I entered the house； down a step and into the living…room I found a gramophone； an oil…stove and； between them； a young man。 Later； when I looked about me； I noticed other； more agreeable things … the rugs on the floor； the embroidered silk on the walls； the carved and painted beams of the ceiling； the heavy； pierced lamp that hung from a chain and cast soft shadows of its own tracery about the room。 But on first entering these three things； the gramophone for its noise … it was playing a French record of jazz band … the stove for its smell； and the young man for his wolfish look； struck my senses。 He was lolling in a basket chair； with a bandaged foot stuck forward on a box； he was dressed in a kind of thin； mid…European imitation tweed with a tennis shirt open at the neck； the unwounded foot wore a brown canvas shoe。 There was a brass tray by his side on wooden legs； and on it were two beer bottles； a dirty plate； and a saucer full of cigarette ends； he held a glass of beer in his hand and a cigarette lay on his lower lip and stuck there when he spoke。 He had long fair hair bed back without a parting and a face that was unnaturally lined for a man of his obvious youth； one of his front teeth was missing； so that his sibilants came sometimes with a lisp； sometimes with a disconcerting whistle； which he covered with a giggle； the teeth he had were stained with tobacco and set far apart。
This was plainly the 'thoroughly bad hat' of the consul's description； the film footman of Anthony's。
'I'm looking for Sebastian Flyte。 This is his house； is it not？' I spoke loudly to make myself heard above the dance music； but he answered softly in English fluent enough to suggest that it was now habitual to him。
'Yeth。 But he isn't here。 There's no one but me。'
'I've e from England to see him on important business。 Can you tell me where I can find him？'
The record came to its end。 The German turned it over； wound up the machine and started it playing again before answering。
'Sebastian's sick。 The brothers took him away to the Infirmary。 Maybe they'll let you thee him； maybe not。 I got to go there myself one day thoon to have my foot dressed。 I'll ask them then。 When he's better they'll let you thee him； maybe。'
There was another chair and I sat down on it。 Seeing that I meant to stay； the German offered me some beer。
'You're not Thebastian's brother？' he said。 'Cousin maybe？ Maybe you married hith thister？'
'I'm only a friend。 We were at the university together。'
'I had a friend at the university。 We studied History。 My friend was cleverer than me； a little weak fellow … I used to pick him up and shake him when I was angry … but tho clever。 Then one day we said： 〃What the hell？ There is no work in Germany。 Germany is down the drain；〃 so we said good…bye to our professors； and they said： 〃Yes； Germany is down the drain。 There is nothing for a student to do here now；〃 and we went away and walked and walked and at last we came here。 Then we said； 〃There is no army in Germany now； but we must be tholdiers；〃 so we joined the Legion。 My friend died of dysentery last year； campaigning in the Atlas。 When he was dead； I said； 〃What the hell？〃 so I shot my foot。 It is now full of pus； though I have done it one year。'
'Yes；' I said。 'That's very interesting。 But my immediate concern is with Sebastian。 Perhaps you would tell me about him。'
'He is a very good fellow； Sebastian。 He is all right for me。 Tangier was a stinking place。 He brought me here … nice house； nice food； nice servant … everything is all right for me here； I reckon。 I like it all right。'
'His mother is very ill；' I said。 'I have e to tell him。'
'She rich？'
'Yes。'
'Why don't she give him more money？ Then we could live at Casablanca； maybe； in a nice flat。 You know her well。？ You could make her give him more money？'
'What's the matter with him？'
'I don't know。 I reckon maybe he drink too much。 The brothers will look after him。 It's all right for him there。 The brothers are good fellows。 Very cheap there。'
He clapped his hands and ordered more beer。
'You thee？ A nice thervant to look after me。 It is all right。' When I had got the name of the hospital I left。
'Tell Thebastian I am still here and all right。 I reckon he's worrying about me； maybe。'
The hospital； where I went next morning； was a collection of bungalows； between the old and the new towns。 It was kept by Franciscans。 I made my way through a crowd of diseased Moors to the doctor's room。 He was a layman； clean shaven； dressed in white； starched overalls。 We spoke in French； and he told me Sebastian was in no danger； but quite unfit to travel。 He had had the grippe； with one lung slightly affected； he was very weak； he lacked resistance； what could one expect？ He was an alcoholic。 The doctor spoke dispassionately； almost brutally； with the relish men of science sometimes have for limiting themselves to inessentials； for pruning back their work to the point of sterility； but the bearded； barefooted brother in whose charge he put me； the man of no scientific pretensions who did the dirty jobs of the ward； had a different story。
'He's so patient。 Not like a young man at all。 He ties there and never plains … and there is much to plain of。 We have no facilities。 The Government give us what they can spare from kind。 There is a poor German boy with the soldiers。 And he is so kind。 There is a poor German boy with a foot that will not heal and secondary syphilis； who es here for treatment。 Lord Flyte found him starving in Tangier and took him in and gave him a home。 A real Samaritan。'
'Poor simple monk；' I thought； 'poor booby。' God forgive me！
Sebastian was in the wing kept for Europeans； where the beds were divided by low partitions into cubicles with some air of privacy。 He was lying with his hands on the quilt staring at the wall； where the only ornament was a religious oleograph。
'Your friend；' said the brother。
He looked round slowly。
'Oh； I thought he meant Kurt。 What are you doing here； Charles？'
He was more than ever emaciated； drink； which made others fat and red； seemed to wither Sebastian。 The brother left us； and I sat by his bed and talked about his illness。
'I was out of my mind for a day or two；' he said。 'I kept thinking I was back in Oxford。 You went to my house？ Did you like it？ Is Kurt still there？ I won't ask you if you liked Kurt； no one does。 It's funny … I couldn't get on without him； you know。'
Then I told him about his mother。 He said nothing for some time； but lay gazing at the oleograph of the Seven Dolours。 Then：
'Poor mummy。 She really was a femme fatale； wasn't she？ She killed at a touch。'
I telegraphed to Julia that Sebastian was unable to travel and stayed a week at Fez； visiting the hospital daily until he was well enough to move。 His first sign of returning strength； on the second day of my visit； was to ask for brandy。 By next day he had got some； some how； and kept it under the bedclothes。
The doctor said： 'Your friend is drinking again。 It is forbidden here。 What can I do？ This is not a reformatory school。 I cannot police the wards。 I am here to cure people； not to protect them from vicious habits； or teach them self…control。 Cognac will not hurt him now。 It will make him weaker for the next time he is ill； and then one day some little trouble will carry him off； pouff。 This is not a home for inebriates。 He must go at the end of the week。'
The lay…brother said： 'Your friend is so much happier today； it is like one transfigured。'
'Poor simple monk；' I thought； 'poor booby'； but he added； 'You know why？ He has a bottle of cognac in bed with him。 It is the second I have found。 No sooner do I take one away than he gets another。 He is so naughty。 It is the Arab boys who fetch it for him。 But it is good to see him happy again when he has been so sad。'
On my last afternoon I said； 'Sebastian； now your mother's dead' … for the news had reached us that morning … 'do you think of going back to England？'
'It would be lovely； in some ways；' he said； 'but do you think Kurt would like it？'
'For God's sake；' I said； 'you don't mean to spend your life with Kurt； do you？'
'I don't know。 He seems to mean to spend it with me。 〃It'th all right for him； I reckon； maybe；〃' he said； mimicking Kurt's accent； and then he added what； if I had paid more attention； should have given me the key I lacked； at the time I heard and remembered it； without taking notice。 'You know； Charles；' he said； 'it's rather a pleasant change when all your life you've had people looking after you； to have someone to look after yourself。 Only of course it has to be someone pretty hopeless to need looking after by me。'
I was able to straighten his money affairs before I left。 He had lived till then by getting into difficulties and then telegraphing for odd sums to his lawyers。 I saw the branch manager of the bank and arranged for him； if funds were forthing from London； to receive Sebastian's quarterly allowance and pay him a weekly sum of pocket money with a reserve to be drawn in emergencies。 This sum was only to be given to Sebastian personally； and only when the manager was satisfied that he had a proper use for it。 Sebastian agreed readily to all this。
'Otherwise；' he said； 'Kurt will get me to sign a cheque for the whole lot when I'm tight and then he'll go off and get into all kinds of trouble。'
I saw Sebastian home from the hospital。 He seemed weaker in his basket chair than he had been in bed。 The two sick men； he and Kurt； sat opposite one another with the gramophone between them。
'It was time you came back； ' said Kurt。 'I need you。'
'Do you； Kurt？'
'I reckon so。 It's not so good being alone when you're sick。 That boy's a lazy fellow … always slipping off when I want him。 Once he stayed out all night and there was no one to make my coffee when I woke up。 It's no good having a foot full of pus。 Times I can't sleep good。 Maybe another time I shall slip off； too； and go where I can be looked after。' He clapped his hands but no servant came。 'You see？' he said。
'What d'you want？'
'Cigarettes。 I got some in the bag under my bed。'
Sebastian began painfully to rise from his chair。
'I'll get them；' I said。 'Where's his bed？'
'No； that's my job；' said Sebastian。
'Yeth； ' said Kurt； 'I reckon that's Sebastian's job。'
So I left him with his friend in the little enclosed house at the end of the alley。 There was nothing more I could do for Sebastian。
I had meant to return direct to Paris； but this business of Sebastian's allowance meant that I must go to London and see Brideshead。 I travelled by sea； taking the P。 & 0。 from Tangier； and was home in early June。
'Do you consider；' asked Brideshead； 'that there is anything vicious in my brother's connection with this German？'
'No。 I'm sure not。 It's simply a case of two waifs ing together。'
'You say he is a criminal？'
'I said 〃a criminal type〃。 He's been in the military prison and was dishonourably discharged。'
'And the doctor says Sebastian is killing himself with drink？'
'Weakening himself。 He hasn't D。T。s or cirrhosis。'
'He's not insane？'
'Certainly not。 He's found a panion he happens to like and a place where he happens to like living。'
'Then he must have his allowance as you suggest。 The thing is quite clear。'
In some ways Brideshead was an easy man to deal with。 He had a kind of mad cert