‘I am a surgeon,’ Henry reminded her. ‘Just get me back to Schloss Wolfburg and I can assess the damage.’

Raven ripped off the bloodied sleeve of his shirt and tied it tight around Henry’s thigh to staunch the flow. With support on either side he was able to hobble on one leg. They were not far from the apartments they shared on Jagerstrasse.

They had been on their way back there when they were set upon. Perhaps they had been assumed to be rich travellers from overseas. If so, Raven would accept it as a compliment that someone thought he looked sufficiently respectable, but though they were travellers from overseas, he and Henry were anything but rich. They were studying at the Charité Hospital and had been there for two months, following a stay in Leipzig. Before that they had been in London, Paris and Vienna.

Raven opened the door to the apartments and began lighting the lamps as Liselotte and Gabriela helped Henry inside.

‘Get him to the bedroom,’ Liselotte urged.

‘Words spoken with a familiar insistence,’ Raven said with measured impropriety.

Liselotte tutted. She had been around them long enough not to expect better.

In truth, after what had just happened, Raven wasn’t feeling inclined to give rein to his impish nature, but he wished to keep his friend’s spirits up.

‘No,’ Henry objected. ‘The light is better here. And I need to sit up.’

They helped him to a couch by the fireplace in the central room.

‘Bring in all the lamps.’

Henry let out an agonised moan as Raven pulled off his trousers, the pain starting to overwhelm him. Shock and urgency had muffled the worst of it at first, but now he was being spared nothing.

Henry examined the wound, probing with delicate fingers. He looked at Raven, who was holding a lamp over his thigh.

‘The ball did not go through. It’s not deep but it’s stuck in there.’

He was wincing with every word. Sweating. Raven knew what was coming; had known since they discovered the wound.

‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to oblige me, old friend.’

‘Ah, but what is it your esteemed Professor Syme maintains? Obstetricians ought not to be carrying out surgery.’

‘And how does your esteemed Professor Simpson counter? We are all licentiates of the Royal College of Surgeons, are we not?’

‘Very well. It would appear that I have little choice in the matter.’

Henry lay back upon the couch, resting his head, then let out another groan.

‘What? I haven’t even started yet.’

‘I just remembered I left my instruments at the hospital. Do you have your own?’

Raven masked his feelings with a smile as he patted the pocket of his coat, inside which sat his knife.

‘And more importantly, do you have chloroform?’

‘No. You’ll just have to tolerate it.’