“There’s nae supposed to be another until four o’clock,” she said. “Mr. Boyle is doing that poor wee man’s legs.”

“We are just visitors, Maggie,” said Rizzo. “We do not wish to disturb you.” To Lacroix he said, “In here we never need to operate by lamplight.” He pointed upwards to the curved roof of glass and iron, the luminous grey midday sky.

“This is the dome on the roof,” said Lacroix. “We are inside the dome?”

“We are!” said Rizzo. He picked up two chairs from where half a dozen were huddled by the patient’s door. He placed the chairs under the glass, stood on one while Lacroix climbed up on the other. Now their heads and shoulders rose above the bolted metal collar of the dome and they looked down on the roof of the cathedral, on smoking chimneys, the broken curves of the river, and out—out to heathland, woodland, the far hills of the western edge.

“We have been struck by lightning,” said Rizzo. “We have had to melt snow from the glass with pans of hot coals. Sometimes we are in a cloud. In general, however, I find the effect on patients to be excellent. In particular they like to see the birds. They take comfort from the sight of them.”

Lacroix nodded. He wondered how much comfort the poor wee man having his legs done that afternoon would find in the sight of seagulls overhead.

They climbed down from their chairs. The woman scrubbed still at the floor, dipping her brush then working it with both hands. The boards under the table were noticeably paler than those further out.

“When will you do it?” asked Lacroix as they descended the stairs.

“Now it has been decided,” said Rizzo, “it should be done as soon as possible. I will spend tonight studying my colleague’s notes. Can you be ready tomorrow? For noon? If you wait in the cathedral I will send someone to fetch you.”

They had reached the bottom of the stairs. They turned to each other.

“Tomorrow?” said Lacroix. “Surely you do not mean the operation?”

“First of all I will conduct another examination. Then, if I am satisfied and if Miss Frend is of the same mind as today, we will proceed. I intend to book the theatre for three. I have already seen there is a space then, a clear hour. Quite long enough.”

“But she cannot possibly be ready tomorrow!”

“No? Why not?”

“She must . . . prepare.”

“In what way?”

“I don’t know. She must . . . think about it.”

“You feel she has not done so? Not sufficiently?”

“You have only met her once!”

“This is true. Which is why tomorrow there will be a second examination. A very thorough one. That before anything.”

“Even so . . . Tomorrow!”

The surgeon smiled. He touched, very gently, Lacroix’s arm.