Scuffs eyes grew wide and dark with terror. "No! No 'ospitil! Don't take me there, please, Mr. Monk, don't take me ..." he gasped. His face turned even whiter. He tried to reach out his hand as if to ward off something, but only his fingers moved. "Please ..."

"All right," Monk said quickly. "No hospital. I'll take you home. I'll look after you."

"You've got to get 'im treated proper, Mr. Monk." Orme's voice was sharp with fear. "Just carin' isn't gonna be enough. That bullet's gotter come out an' the 'ole stitched up ... an' cleaned."

"I know," Monk answered, more sharply than he meant to. "Get a message to Crow and have him come to my house. My wife's a battlefield nurse."

Orme saw the futility of arguing when time was so desperately precious. He ran out into the street and stopped the first hansom passing, ordering the startled passenger out to find another hansom. This was police business. The man saw the injured child and made no demur.

Orme left to look for Crow.

It was a nightmare journey. Monk sat cradling Scuff in his arms, talking to him all the time about anything and nothing, wishing he knew how to help. The trip seemed to last forever, and yet it was perhaps no more than half an hour before he climbed out, paid the driver, and carried Scuff to the front door.

The house was dark, empty, and cold. God! Had she gone back to Portpool Lane already? He could have wept with fear and the aching loneliness of knowing he was inadequate to do what was needed. Where was Hester? Why was she not here? What could he do without her? He felt panicky and sick. There was no time to wait!

He must keep Scuff warm! He was slipping away, bleeding too fast. His face was gray and there was barely a flutter of his eyelids.

Monk must warm up the room, riddle the stove, put on more fuel. He should boil water to make it clean. Where was Hester? Why was she not here? He had no idea how to get a bullet out! He could kill Scuff just by trying!

He moved quickly, ramming the fire with the poker. He must be careful; if he added too much coal, he would put the fire out. Then it would take ages to light again. He blew on it, to make it draw. Then he filled the biggest pan with water, but changed his mind and put on a small one instead. It would be quicker.