Duncan perhaps did not remember that Raven had been there that night, possibly because he had been unconscious at the time Raven made his entrance. Consequently, Raven doubted this part of his claim, but it would do no good to tell him as much. It would serve only to antagonise him. People often misremembered and reassembled the facts in a way that suited what they already wished to believe. Though Duncan had indeed worked with Simpson for months to find an alternative to ether, Raven did not believe that he had suggested or provided the successful sample on that famous evening. In fact, they had narrowly missed inhaling something rather toxic that might well have killed everyone in the room. It was a happy accident that this draught was misplaced and a bottle containing chloroform was tested instead.

What was clear was that he knew precious little about the treatment of Mrs Johnstone and had merely seized upon the outcome as a stick with which to beat the man he perceived as his foe. In this enterprise he had happily joined with two other, more senior medical men who, as Dr Ziegler suggested, held their own grudges. Raven suspected neither would be any more inclined to respond to contradictory evidence than the man before him now.

If he truly wanted to clear Dr Simpson’s name, he would have to go to a first-hand witness.

THIRTY-TWO

arah entered the darkened bedroom with a tray bearing Archie’s breakfast. She told herself it was an affectionate indulgence to be bringing it to him in his bed, but in truth she was trying to spare his energy by delaying when he had to get up. As always the meal itself was an exercise in optimism. He rarely ate much of it, whatever it was. This morning: a soft-boiled egg and tea. She put the tray down and helped him to sit forward, plumping up his pillows. He looked tired but then so was she. He was having disturbed nights, only managing to sleep for short periods. Sarah, more often than not, slept in a chair beside the bed.

‘Good morning,’ she said and kissed his forehead.

‘You look exhausted,’ he responded. ‘I fear you’re getting less sleep than I am.’

‘Not exactly what every young wife wants to hear,’ she replied as she pulled open the curtains. A thin grey light entered the room, doing little to cheer it. She sat on the bed beside him and he took her hand.

‘Perhaps I should consider moving to Queen Street as Dr Simpson has been suggesting,’ he said. ‘It would let you sleep at night, let one of us get their strength back at least.’

Sarah shook her head, but he continued.

‘It won’t do for you to become ill too.’