I thought of Lily and her delight in her baby; I could imagine her at home waiting for news. It must not be news of her husband’s death. She had had such hopes of happiness. I remembered the change in her, the day when she had told us that she was going to marry William; and then the coming of the baby.
“Please don’t let the baby be an orphan,” I prayed.
“Don’t let Lily be a widow.”
But how many widows and orphans must there be because of this stupid, senseless war!
“But not Lily,” I continued to pray.
“Not Lily.”
I went into the ward and looked for him. It took me a long time but at last I found him.
I knelt by his bed. I said: “William, do you know who I am?”
It seemed as though he was listening but his eyes did not focus on me.
I feared he might be half dead already.
“William,” I went on, ‘it’s Anna Pleydell. Lily’s friend. “
“Lily,” he murmured and I think he was trying to smile.
“Don’t die,” I muttered to myself.
“You mustn’t die. You’ve got to get well. There are Lily and the baby.”
But I was terribly afraid.
I went into the small room which I used as a sort of refuge.
It seemed to have a special significance since Charles had asked me to marry him there. And it was there that I had talked to Dr. Adair and persuaded him not to part Ethel from her Tom. Some instinct led me there. I knew I had to find Damien Adair, for ironically enough I had the idea that he alone could help.
I was not surprised to see him there. He had taken some bottles from a shelf and was frowning at them.
“Dr. Adair.”
He swung round.
“Miss er -‘ ” Pleydell,” I said.
“Oh yes, of course.”
I said: “There is a man out there. I know him. I know his wife. She has a baby.”
“There are a lot of men out there. I dare say many of them have wives and babies. What is there special about your man?”
“He must not die. He must be saved.”
“It is our duty to save them all if that is possible.”
I went to him and, seizing his arm, shook it. He looked surprised and faintly amused.
“Please,” I said.
“Look at him … now. Tell me that he can be saved. You must save his life.”
“Where is he?”
“I will take you to him.”
He followed me to the ward and I took him to the bed in which William Clift lay. He examined him, which took a little time. I stood watching his deft fingers probing.
Finally he pulled the blanket up over William. He walked towards the little room and I followed him. There he turned and looked at me.
“There are two bullets in his thigh,” he said.
“They are festering. He might have a chance if they were taken out at once.”
“Give him that chance, please, J beg of you.”
He looked at me steadily. Then he said: “Very well. I will operate at once. You know him. You’d better be there. You may be of help.”
“Yes,” I said eagerly.
“Oh yes.”
“Let him be prepared. Get a screen put up round the bed. I’ll have to do it there. There’s nowhere else.”
“I will at once.”
I felt suddenly grateful to him. I knew he was the only one who could do it, even though he had cost me my own son with his experiments.
That was the strangest experience I had lived through so far. William lay on his bed. He was not sufficiently conscious to know what was about to happen to him. I was glad of that.
I kept whispering to him: “You’re going to be all right, William.
You’re going home to Lily and the baby . such a bonny baby. Lily’s so proud of him and so will you be. Home, William, that’s where you’re going. “
I did not know whether he understood what I was saying, but he seemed to be comforted.
When Dr. Adair came to us he looked at me steadily. He said: “I’d rather you did not talk about what you are about to see. I want you to be here. I think the patient needs you. But this is between us … the doctor, the nurse and the patient.”
He took a phial from his pocket.
“Give me a cup,” he said.
He took it and poured a liquid into it.
“Lift the patient’s head.”
I did so and held it while he drank the liquid.
“What’s his name?”
“William Clift.”
He nodded and leaned over William. He said: “William Clift. Look at me. Look into my eyes. Look. Look. What do you see? You see into my mind. I am going to take two bullets out of your thigh. You will feel nothing … nothing … nothing at all. Your friend is here with you, your friend from home.”
He went on looking into William’s face, saying: “You will feel nothing of this … nothing … nothing …”
William closed his eyes and appeared to sleep.
“We will act quickly,” said Damien Adair to me, ‘while the effect stays with him. “
I was trembling. I felt I was in the presence of some mystic being whose wildly unorthodox methods were different from anything I had ever known.
“You can talk to him,” he said.
“Talk of his wife, his child and home .”
So I did. I said: “We’ll go home, William. Lily is waiting. The baby will have grown. He’ll want to see his father. Lily is so happy, waiting for you … waiting … in the shop you know … and you’ll go back and there’ll be no more blood, no more slaughter … just home … home … You’ll take the baby into the park. The park is lovely now, and the band plays there on Sundays.”
I went on and on saying the first things which came into my mind. I turned and saw the deft fingers at work. He held up one bullet; he was smiling in a triumphant way which seemed to me to be almost inhuman.
What amazed me was that William had not moved while the operation was being performed.
“Go on talking,” he commanded; and I did.
Then I heard him give a sigh. I turned. He was holding the second bullet in his hand.
“The deed is done,” he said.
“He will feel the pain presently … not yet though. He is all right for a while. When he wakes, just sit with him quietly. If he tries to talk, answer him. In an hour or so he’ll be in pain. I am going to give him something to stop it. Come to me at once if you see any sign of pain. I shall be about the ward.
Keep the screens round the bed until you are told to move them. “
I sat there beside William. I felt strangely exalted. It was like witnessing a miracle. That man had strange powers. What was it Philippe had said about him? Unique. That was true. And there was a secret between us. I was to tell no one what I had seen.
My emotions were in turmoil. I sat there for almost an hour; then I saw that William’s face was contorted in pain. I hurried away to find Dr. Adair. He was, as he had said he would be, in the ward.
“I will come,” he said.
He came to William’s bedside and put drops from his phial into a spoon which he gave to William.
“That will give him a few more hours’ oblivion,” he said.
“And then?” I asked.
“The pain will come back, but the longer we ward it off, the more chance his body has to recover. You can leave him now. I don’t doubt you have plenty to do.”
I said: “Thank you, Dr. Adair.”
I don’t know how I got through my work that day. My thoughts were in a whirl. I kept thinking of that scene behind the screens himself, myself and the man who might be dying in his bed.
There were moments when I thought: He is experimenting with his strange skills. What right had he to experiment on human beings . using them as guinea pigs? And yet . if he had saved William’s life.
I could not stop thinking of him. But then I had been doing that since I had met him . and before.