They were not. Once the thing was out, the clean flat bone of the forehead showed underneath. There was no socket.
Dr. Axeworthy laid the black orb on a stainless-steel tray, dripping with bright red blood.
Carefully he sutured the expert X in the patient's forehead, keeping his worried eyes averted from the extracted orb. He could not bear to look at it, and because of his unprofessional timidity, he failed to notice that the orb had begun to glow a faint violet color.
Dawn had turned Long Island Sound into a quaking lake of burning red and orange by the time Dr. Axeworthy had laid down his bloody scalpel and had begun bandaging the patient's new face.
"It is done?" asked the old Oriental curiously.
"I did the best that I could."
"The eyes must be just so."
"I can't guarantee the eyes," Dr. Axeworthy said testily. "But I did reduce the nose."
The old Oriental watched the last pale winding of gauze swallow the freshly washed tip of the patient's nose and said darkly, "It is still of freakish size."
"Anything more extreme and he would not look normal," remarked Dr. Axeworthy, cutting off the gauze spool and anchoring the trailing end under the chin with a tiny clamp.
He stepped back.
"When he wakes up, he will be in excruciating pain."
"He will transcend it. For he is my son."
Dr. Axeworthy's virile eyebrows lifted. "That explains your eagerness to bring out your side of the family."
"His ugliness had been a source of deep pain to me," the old Oriental said sadly. "It sent his mother to an early grave." He brushed at one eye.
"I see. Please inform Dr. Smith-if that is his true name that the procedure has been completed."
The old Oriental padded from the operating room with the easy silence of a ghost.
After he had departed, Dr. Axeworthy gathered up his instruments. His eyes went to the black thing. He blinked at it.
Was it imagination, or was the orb glowing like a black light bulb? He reached for it curiously ....
Dr. Harold W. Smith was supervising the workmen as they were completing the installation of the new office window when the Master of Sinanju entered the office.
Smith lifted a hand to silence the words about to emerge from the old Korean's papery lips.
His eyes on the workmen, Chiun floated up to Smith, who bent his head sideways to catch the whispered words.
"It is done."
"Good," whispered Smith.
"Do I eliminate the doctor?"
"No!" hissed Smith.
"This was always done before," Chiun pointed out.
"Not here."
One of the workmen looked over from the window.
"We're about done here."
"Excellent." Smith cleared his throat. "You may leave now. "
"Funny thing," one of the workmen called over. "I've been installing windows for a lot of years. This is the first time I ever had to put a trick one in."
"This is a private hospital," Smith told him, thinking quickly. "Boaters have been caught training binoculars on the windows facing the shore. Since extremely delicate patient interviews are conducted in this room, we are concerned about lip readers gleaning highly intimate details about our patients. "
"Guess you can't be too careful, huh?"
Chiun tugged at Smith's gray sleeve. Smith leaned over slightly.
"He suspects," hissed the Master of Sinanju. "Shall I dispatch him and his confederate here and now, or shall we await a more profitable opportunity, when no blame will be attached to us?"
"No!" said Smith from behind a thin hand.
"This has been done before," Chiun suggested.
"They can be traced to this office," Smith said huskily.
Chiun frowned like an unhappy mummy.
After the window installers had departed, Smith turned to the Master of Sinanju and said, "I must speak with Dr. Axeworthy. "
"I do not trust him," said Chiun darkly. "I suspect him of not following your wise instructions to the letter."
"Why don't you accompany me, then?"
Chiun's hazel eyes narrowed. A light of understanding shone in their ageless depths. He understood now. Wise Emperor Harold suspected the window persons of being in league with the treacherous physician and did not wish to tip his hand.
As they took the elevator to the operating room, he thought with a contained expression that he might not have to pay the dishonest physician his promised tribute after all.
Dr. Axeworthy whirled nervously when they entered the operating room.
"Dr. Smith. Look at this. My God!"
"What is it?" Smith said, hurrying over to the operating table. "Has the patient been injured?"
Axeworthy pointed with an unsteady index finger. "This is the source of the swelling on the patient's forehead."
Smith looked where Dr. Axeworthy pointed. His gray eyes widened at the sight of the viscous black orb that was surrounded by a faint purplish halo on the stainless-steel instrument table.
"What on earth'?" Smith blurted.
"I've never seen anything like it," Dr. Axeworthy said excitedly. "I've never heard of anything like it." He turned, his eyes fever-bright. "Smith, you must allow me to take possession of this organ or nodule or whatever it is."
"Why do you wish that?" asked Smith in an austere voice.
Dr. Axeworthy could not tear his eyes from the glowing object. "This thing may make medical history. I think it may be some form of vestigial organ. An organ of some new kind, perhaps. Look at it glow. It's been out of the patient for nearly three hours!" ,
"I am afraid I cannot allow this."
Dr. Axeworthy drew himself up stubbornly.
"And I am afraid I must insist.
"Really?" Smith's tone sank several degrees.
"I hesitate to say this, but this entire procedure has been unorthodox. I have no qualms about going to the authorities with the entire sordid story, such as I understand it."
"What do you suspect this of being?" Smith asked in a chilly voice.
"I have no idea. A criminal enterprise of some tawdry sort. I imagine Folcroft is a suitable place in which to remake notorious criminals. I am only sorry that I have been made a party to this."
"If you had these suspicions, why did you proceed with the operation?" Smith demanded.
Dr. Axeworthy hesitated. He was obviously thinking, Smith saw. The surgeon cleared his throat and said, "I was playing along. Yes I was being a good citizen and gathering evidence so I could testify in court. Had I not performed the surgery, there would be no crime, nothing to report to the police. "
Harold Smith and the Master of Sinanju exchanged glances. "You want the . . . ah . . . organ. Is that it?" said Smith.
"And my fee, naturally. I am willing to exchange the organ for my silence."
Smith nodded to the Master of Sinanju and said, "Kill him."
The Master of Sinanju started forward, his hands coming out of his sleeves like talons.
Dr. Axeworthy almost laughed. But there was a coldness of purpose in Harold Smith's eye and a strange confidence in the advancing Oriental's strides.
Reflexively he jumped back a pace, snatching up the black orb. He was careful to cup it loosely in his half-closed fist. If it were an eye, it would be hollow and filled with fluid. He did not wish to injure the orb's organic integrity. The New England Journal of Medicine would demand proof or they would refuse to publish his findings.
With his other hand he placed the point of a scalpel to the unknown patient's throat, saying, "One more step and I will slit him from ear to ear!"
The old Oriental stopped in his tracks.
"Have a care," he said in a cold voice. "You know not what you threaten."
"Some cheap hood. What of it?"
Dr. Axeworthy had no sooner touched the scalpel point to the patient's throat than his hand suddenly felt cold. It was the hand that cupped the orb.