"Don"t wear yourself out, girl," he said gravely. "We need people like you. It was good work to-night--fine work. I wish we had more like you."
By midnight the work was done, and the nurse in charge sent Sidney to bed.
It was the Lamb who received the message about Wilson; and because he was not very keen at the best, and because the news was so startling, he refused to credit his ears.
"Who is this at the "phone?"
"That doesn"t matter. Le Moyne"s my name. Get the message to Dr. Ed Wilson at once. We are starting to the city."
"Tell me again. I mustn"t make a mess of this."
"Dr. Wilson, the surgeon, has been shot," came slowly and distinctly.
"Get the staff there and have a room ready. Get the operating-room ready, too."
The Lamb wakened then, and roused the house. He was incoherent, rather, so that Dr. Ed got the impression that it was Le Moyne who had been shot, and only learned the truth when he got to the hospital.
"Where is he?" he demanded. He liked K., and his heart was sore within him.
"Not in yet, sir. A Mr. Le Moyne is bringing him. Staff"s in the executive committee room, sir."
"But--who has been shot? I thought you said--"
The Lamb turned pale at that, and braced himself.
"I"m sorry--I thought you understood. I believe it"s not--not serious.
It"s Dr. Max, sir."
Dr. Ed, who was heavy and not very young, sat down on an office chair.
Out of sheer habit he had brought the bag. He put it down on the floor beside him, and moistened his lips.
"Is he living?"
"Oh, yes, sir. I gathered that Mr. Le Moyne did not think it serious."
He lied, and Dr. Ed knew he lied.
The Lamb stood by the door, and Dr. Ed sat and waited. The office clock said half after three. Outside the windows, the night world went by--taxi-cabs full of roisterers, women who walked stealthily close to the buildings, a truck carrying steel, so heavy that it shook the hospital as it rumbled by.
Dr. Ed sat and waited. The bag with the dog-collar in it was on the floor. He thought of many things, but mostly of the promise he had made his mother. And, having forgotten the injured man"s shortcomings, he was remembering his good qualities--his cheerfulness, his courage, his achievements. He remembered the day Max had done the Edwardes operation, and how proud he had been of him. He figured out how old he was--not thirty-one yet, and already, perhaps--There he stopped thinking. Cold beads of sweat stood out on his forehead.
"I think I hear them now, sir," said the Lamb, and stood back respectfully to let him pa.s.s out of the door.
Carlotta stayed in the room during the consultation. No one seemed to wonder why she was there, or to pay any attention to her. The staff was stricken. They moved back to make room for Dr. Ed beside the bed, and then closed in again.
Carlotta waited, her hand over her mouth to keep herself from screaming.
Surely they would operate; they wouldn"t let him die like that!
When she saw the phalanx break up, and realized that they would not operate, she went mad. She stood against the door, and accused them of cowardice--taunted them.
"Do you think he would let any of you die like that?" she cried. "Die like a hurt dog, and none of you to lift a hand?"
It was Pfeiffer who drew her out of the room and tried to talk reason and sanity to her.
"It"s hopeless," he said. "If there was a chance, we"d operate, and you know it."
The staff went hopelessly down the stairs to the smoking-room, and smoked. It was all they could do. The night a.s.sistant sent coffee down to them, and they drank it. Dr. Ed stayed in his brother"s room, and said to his mother, under his breath, that he"d tried to do his best by Max, and that from now on it would be up to her.
K. had brought the injured man in. The country doctor had come, too, finding Tillie"s trial not imminent. On the way in he had taken it for granted that K. was a medical man like himself, and had placed his hypodermic case at his disposal.
When he missed him,--in the smoking-room, that was,--he asked for him.
"I don"t see the chap who came in with us," he said. "Clever fellow.
Like to know his name."
The staff did not know.
K. sat alone on a bench in the hall. He wondered who would tell Sidney; he hoped they would be very gentle with her. He sat in the shadow, waiting. He did not want to go home and leave her to what she might have to face. There was a chance she would ask for him. He wanted to be near, in that case.
He sat in the shadow, on the bench. The night watchman went by twice and stared at him. At last he asked K. to mind the door until he got some coffee.
"One of the staff"s been hurt," he explained. "If I don"t get some coffee now, I won"t get any."
K. promised to watch the door.
A desperate thing had occurred to Carlotta. Somehow, she had not thought of it before. Now she wondered how she could have failed to think of it.
If only she could find him and he would do it! She would go down on her knees--would tell him everything, if only he would consent.
When she found him on his bench, however, she pa.s.sed him by. She had a terrible fear that he might go away if she put the thing to him first.
He clung hard to his new ident.i.ty.
So first she went to the staff and confronted them. They were men of courage, only declining to undertake what they considered hopeless work.
The one man among them who might have done the thing with any chance of success lay stricken. Not one among them but would have given of his best--only his best was not good enough.
"It would be the Edwardes operation, wouldn"t it?" demanded Carlotta.
The staff was bewildered. There were no rules to cover such conduct on the part of a nurse. One of them--Pfeiffer again, by chance--replied rather heavily:--
"If any, it would be the Edwardes operation."
"Would Dr. Edwardes himself be able to do anything?"
This was going a little far.
"Possibly. One chance in a thousand, perhaps. But Edwardes is dead. How did this thing happen, Miss Harrison?"
She ignored his question. Her face was ghastly, save for the trace of rouge; her eyes were red-rimmed.
"Dr. Edwardes is sitting on a bench in the hall outside!" she announced.