windows in the residences were without panes, the glass broken. Here and there ragged curtains flapped in the brisk breeze and the sound of a baby crying broke the eerie stillness. The hospital, too, looked grim and forbidding. An unadorned wooden sign unevenly lettered in black hung over the entrance: charity hospital of London.
The smell of sickness and unwashed flesh assaulted their nostrils the moment they stepped inside the front door. A long bleak hallway stretched before them. Sounds of groaning emanated from the distant end of it. Drum called out, "Is there a physician present?" There was no response so they began to make their way down the corridor, looking into each door they passed. The small, spartanly furnished cubicles were all empty. "I say, there is a man wounded here—bleeding all over your demned clean floor," he added as Alex's legs suddenly started to give way.
"I think I'd ... better sit down," Alex rasped, blinking to clear his muzzy head. "Dizzy. So damned dizzy ..."
Drummond started to guide him into one of the deserted offices, but just then a woman's voice called out from down the hall. "Not in there, across the hall. There is a table to lay him on."
Joss had heard the commotion from the far end of the ward rooms and rushed to see what new emergency had arisen. The best nurse, Peggy Halloran, was home with her sick aunt and Dr. Byington had not yet arrived, leaving only her and one other neophyte volunteer to care for a ward with over twenty people in it. In the dim light she could make out little about the two men. Upon reaching the doorway she could see by the cut of their clothes they were hardly the sort who frequented a charity hospital. A pair of elegant young bucks.
Both were blood smeared, but the small one blocked her view of his compatriot lying on the table. "We need a physician here," Drum announced peremptorily. "Summon one at once."
"Dr. Byington will return in an hour, perhaps two. He's delivering a baby. I'm trained as a nurse. You'd best let me have a look." Her tone matched his, brooking no opposition. She also towered over him by a good four inches. When the little dandy stepped back, she gasped in shock. "Alex!"
"You know my friend?" Drum asked incredulously. Whatever would a flashy cock-of-the walk like Alex Blackthorne do with a long Meg such as this scarecrow?
"Yes, we're friends," she replied, biting her lip as she touched Alex's cheek. There was blood all over him. "Where is he hurt?"
"Summon the physician. Alex has more need—”
"Do not try my patience, sir, nor waste any more time. The doctor is not available."
"Then I suppose you'd better look at my back," Alex said, struggling to sit up.
Joss turned to him, ignoring the scowling little toff. "Lie still," she commanded.
"Can't until I get this damned jacket and shirt off," he replied, turning his back to her as he tried to ease his left arm out of the jacket. Drum assisted him.
"What happened?" she asked tersely, taking the blood- soaked coat and tossing it in the corner. When he peeled the ruined shirt off, she gasped. "You've been stabbed!"
"Excellent diagnosis, but I suspect it must be a frequent one in a place such as this," Drum said dryly.
Joss took a deep breath, both to calm herself and for patience. "Yes, we often see victims of taproom altercations," she replied, sniffing the pungent odor of gin and cheap perfume about Alex. The rotter, he'd been slumming in some gin mill about here and gambling, too, from the looks of the wads of banknotes stuffed in his pockets! A square of blood-soaked linen was stuck to the wound. When she removed it he winced.
"Serves you right for breaking at least half the Lord's commandments," she said sweetly. The wound was jagged. Thank
The smell of sickness and unwashed flesh assaulted their nostrils the moment they stepped inside the front door. A long bleak hallway stretched before them. Sounds of groaning emanated from the distant end of it. Drum called out, "Is there a physician present?" There was no response so they began to make their way down the corridor, looking into each door they passed. The small, spartanly furnished cubicles were all empty. "I say, there is a man wounded here—bleeding all over your demned clean floor," he added as Alex's legs suddenly started to give way.
"I think I'd ... better sit down," Alex rasped, blinking to clear his muzzy head. "Dizzy. So damned dizzy ..."
Drummond started to guide him into one of the deserted offices, but just then a woman's voice called out from down the hall. "Not in there, across the hall. There is a table to lay him on."
Joss had heard the commotion from the far end of the ward rooms and rushed to see what new emergency had arisen. The best nurse, Peggy Halloran, was home with her sick aunt and Dr. Byington had not yet arrived, leaving only her and one other neophyte volunteer to care for a ward with over twenty people in it. In the dim light she could make out little about the two men. Upon reaching the doorway she could see by the cut of their clothes they were hardly the sort who frequented a charity hospital. A pair of elegant young bucks.
Both were blood smeared, but the small one blocked her view of his compatriot lying on the table. "We need a physician here," Drum announced peremptorily. "Summon one at once."
"Dr. Byington will return in an hour, perhaps two. He's delivering a baby. I'm trained as a nurse. You'd best let me have a look." Her tone matched his, brooking no opposition. She also towered over him by a good four inches. When the little dandy stepped back, she gasped in shock. "Alex!"
"You know my friend?" Drum asked incredulously. Whatever would a flashy cock-of-the walk like Alex Blackthorne do with a long Meg such as this scarecrow?
"Yes, we're friends," she replied, biting her lip as she touched Alex's cheek. There was blood all over him. "Where is he hurt?"
"Summon the physician. Alex has more need—”
"Do not try my patience, sir, nor waste any more time. The doctor is not available."
"Then I suppose you'd better look at my back," Alex said, struggling to sit up.
Joss turned to him, ignoring the scowling little toff. "Lie still," she commanded.
"Can't until I get this damned jacket and shirt off," he replied, turning his back to her as he tried to ease his left arm out of the jacket. Drum assisted him.
"What happened?" she asked tersely, taking the blood- soaked coat and tossing it in the corner. When he peeled the ruined shirt off, she gasped. "You've been stabbed!"
"Excellent diagnosis, but I suspect it must be a frequent one in a place such as this," Drum said dryly.
Joss took a deep breath, both to calm herself and for patience. "Yes, we often see victims of taproom altercations," she replied, sniffing the pungent odor of gin and cheap perfume about Alex. The rotter, he'd been slumming in some gin mill about here and gambling, too, from the looks of the wads of banknotes stuffed in his pockets! A square of blood-soaked linen was stuck to the wound. When she removed it he winced.
"Serves you right for breaking at least half the Lord's commandments," she said sweetly. The wound was jagged. Thank
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