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“I said then,” said Nurse Graham with spirit, “and I say now, that Sir Derek did not know what he was saying.”
“Well,” remarked Alleyn mildly, “as we all know about it, I think you and I, Sir John, will go downstairs.” He turned to the O’Callaghans.
“Actually, I believe, you both stayed on in the hospital during the operation, but, of course, there is no need for you to do so now. Lady O’Callaghan, shall I ask for your car to take you back to Catherine Street? If you will forgive me, I must go to the theatre.”
Suddenly he realised that she was in such a fury that she could not answer. He took Phillips by the elbow and propelled him through the door.
“We will leave Nurse Graham,” he said, “alone with her patient.”
CHAPTER XVII
Reconstruction Concluded
Thursday, the eighteenth. Late afternoon.
The “theatre party” appeared to have entered heartily into the spirit of the thing. A most convincing activity was displayed in the anteroom, where Sister Marigold, Jane Harden and a very glum-faced Banks washed and clattered while Inspector Fox, his massive form wedged into a corner, looked on with an expressionless countenance and a general air of benignity. A faint bass drone from beyond the swing-door informed Alleyn of the presence in the theatre of Inspector Boys.
“All ready, matron?” asked Alleyn.
“Quite ready, inspector.”
“Well, here we all are.” He stood aside and Phillips, Thoms and Roberts walked in.
“Are you at about the same stage as you were when the doctors came in?”
“At exactly the same stage.”
“Good. What happens now?” He turned to the men. No one spoke for a moment. Roberts turned deferentially towards Phillips, who had moved across to Jane Harden. Jane and Phillips did not look at each other. Phillips appeared not to have heard Alleyn’s question. Thoms cleared his throat importantly.
“Well now, let’s see. If I’m not speaking out of my turn, I should say we got down to the job straight away. Roberts said he’d go along to the anæsthetic-room and Sir John, I believe, went into the theatre? That correct, sir?”
“Did you go into the theatre immediately, Sir John?” asked Alleyn.
“What? I? Yes, I believe so.”
“Before you washed?”
“Naturally.”
“Well, let’s start, shall we? Dr. Roberts, did you go alone to the anæsthetic-room?”
“No. Nurse — er—?” Roberts blinked at Banks. “Nurse Banks went with me. I looked at the anæsthetising apparatus and asked Nurse Banks to let Sir Derek’s nurse know when we were ready.”
“Will you go along, then? Fox, you take over with Dr. Roberts. Now, please, Sir John.”
Phillips at once went through into the theatre, followed by Alleyn. Boys broke off his subterranean humming and at a word from Alleyn took his place in the anteroom. Phillips, without speaking, crossed to the side table, which was set out as before with the three syringes in dishes of water. The surgeon took his hypodermic case from his pocket, looked at the first tube, appeared to find it empty, took out the second, and having squirted a syringeful of water into a measure-glass, dropped in a single tablet.
“That is what — what I believe I did,” he said.
“And then? You returned to the anteroom? No. What about Mr. Thoms?”
“Yes. Thoms should be here now.”
“Mr. Thoms, please!” shouted Alleyn.
The door swung open and Thoms came in.
“Hullo, hullo. Want me?”
“I understood you watched Sir John take up the hyoscine solution into the syringe.”
“Oh! Yes, b’lieve I did,” said Thoms, rather less boisterously.
“You commented on the amount of water.”
“Yes, I know, but — look here, you don’t want to go thinking— ”
“I simply want a reconstruction without comment, Mr. Thoms.”
“Oh, quite, quite.”
Phillips stood with the syringe in his hand. He looked gravely and rather abstractedly at his assistant. At a nod from Alleyn he filled the syringe.
“It is now that Thoms remarks on the quantity of water,” he said quietly. “I snub him and go back into the anæsthetic-room, where I give the injection. The patient is there with the special nurse.” He took up the syringe and walked away. Thoms moved away with a grimace at Alleyn, who said abruptly:
“Just a moment, Mr. Thoms. I think you stayed behind in the theatre for a minute or two.”
“No, I didn’t — beg your pardon, inspector. I thought I went out to the anteroom before Sir John moved.”
“Sir John thought not, and the nurses had the impression you came in a little later.”
“Maybe,” said Thoms. “I really can’t remember.”
“Have you no idea what you did during the two or three minutes?”
“None.”
“Oh. In that case I’ll leave you. Boys!”
Inspector Boys returned to the theatre and Alleyn went out. In about a minute Thoms joined him.
Sir John appeared in the anteroom and washed up, assisted by Jane Harden and the matron, who afterwards helped the surgeons to dress up.
“I feel rather an ass,” said Thoms brightly. Nobody answered him.
“It is now, said Phillips in the same grave, detached ma
“All agreed?” Alleyn asked the others. The women murmured an assent.
“Now what happens?”
“Pardon me, but I remember Mr. Thoms went into the theatre and then called me in to him,” murmured Sister Marigold.
“Thank you, matron. Away you go, then.” Alleyn waited until the doors had swung to and then turned to where Phillips, now wearing his gown and mask, stood silently beside Jane Harden.
“So you were left alone together at this juncture?” he said, without stressing it.
“Yes,” said Phillips.
“Do you mind telling me what was said?”
“Oh, please,” whispered Jane. “Please, please!” It was the first time she had spoken.
“Can’t you let her off this?” said Phillips. There was a sort of urgency in his voice now.
“I’m sorry — I would if I could.”
“I’ll tell him, Jane. We said it was a strange situation. I again asked her to marry me. She said no — that she felt she belonged to O’Callaghan. Something to that effect. She tried to explain her point of view.”
“You’ve left something out — you’re not thinking of yourself.” She stood in front of him, for all the world as though she was prepared to keep Alleyn off. “He said then that he didn’t want to operate and that he’d give anything to be out of it. His very words. He told me he’d tried to persuade — her—his wife — to get another surgeon. He hated the idea of operating. Does that look as though he meant any harm? Does it? Does it? He never thinks of himself — he only wants to help me, and I’m not worth it. I’ve told him so a hundred times— ”
“Jane, my dear, don’t.”
There was a tap on the outer door and Roberts looked in.
“I think it’s time I came and washed up,” he said.
“Come in, Dr. Roberts.”
Roberts glanced at the others.
“Forgive me, Sir John,” he began with the deference that he always used when he spoke to Phillips, “but as I remember it, Mr. Thoms came in with me at this juncture.”
“You’re quite right, Roberts,” agreed Phillips courteously.
“Mr. Thoms, please,” called Alleyn again.
Thoms shot back into the room.
“Late again, am I?” he remarked. “Truth of the matter is I can’t for the life of me remember all the ins and outs of it. I suppose I wash up now? What?”
“If you please,” said Alleyn sedately.
At last they were ready and Roberts returned to Inspecter Fox and the anæsthetic-room. The others, accompanied by Alleyn, went to the theatre.
The cluster of lights above the table had been turned up and Alleyn again felt that sense of expectancy in the theatre. Phillips went immediately to the window end of the table and waited with his gloved hands held out in front of him. Thoms stood at the foot of the table. Sister Marigold and Jane were farther away.