Samuel, basking in the glory of all eyes being upon him, hands the saw to the dresser who assists him. He holds his preferred knife aloft one more time to the packed auditorium, standing room only in all four tiers, a final charming smile, and then, ‘Gentlemen! Let us commence!’

No matter how many times Edward has borne witness to or taken part in an amputation, they still thrill him to the very marrow. The tick of the watches, the thrum of the saw, the glorious risk of it all! The knowledge that you could save a man’s life or destroy it in an instant, all with but a single slip of a knife.

Samuel inhales deeply as the eager audience jostle for the best view before he deftly inserts his knife into the patient’s thigh, slicing swiftly through the flesh around the lower part of the femur. The man screams once, loudly, through the stick clamped tightly between his jaws before promptly passing out. Better for him that he does so, thinks Edward. Samuel has been known to take the top off a man’s testes on more than one occasion in his quest to be the fastest in London.

As the dresser bends in to tie off the man’s arteries, Samuel reaches for the saw. Tourniquet tightened, the bone now exposed higher up the thigh, Samuel leans over and begins, pinning the now limp patient down with some not inconsiderable strength. Edward counts just eight long strokes before the stump is set free. With a flourish, Samuel stands back up, bows to the crowd and drops the severed limb with a dull thud into a waiting box of sawdust.

‘Forty-two seconds!’ cries a member of the audience, to groans of assent.

‘Ah,’ Samuel tuts, shakes his head. ‘A tad slower than usual, but one would be hard pushed to witness a finer demonstration in our beloved capital. Is that not so?’ Ever the showman, he bows again to a round of applause, before returning his attention to the unconscious patient. Working swiftly and closely with the dresser, Samuel ties off the smaller blood vessels, thread in mouth, before leaving his assistant to stitch the flap of loose skin back over the stump.

Satisfied with his work, Samuel steps back from the operating table, a fever of elation across his face. He catches Edward’s eye and Edward cannot help but return the grin, even as Samuel goes to clap him on the shoulder and Edward ducks swiftly away from his friend’s hands, red with blood.

‘Was that not well done, my friend? Truly well done?’ Samuel’s eyes are bright and wild, cheeks flushed with both his achievement and the heat of the crammed room. He wipes his hands on his already stained coat.