“Dr. Roberts will give the anæsthetic. Dr. Grey is engaged. We were lucky to get you, Roberts, at such short notice.”

“I’m delighted to come,” said Roberts. “I’ve been doing a good deal of Grey’s work lately. It is always an honour, and an interesting experience, to work under you, Sir John.”

He spoke with a curious formality as if he considered each sentence carefully and then offered it to the person he addressed.

“If I may I’ll just take a look at the anæsthetising-room before we begin.”

“Certainly.”

The truculent Banks reappeared.

“Nurse Banks,” said the matron, “go with Dr. Roberts to the anæsthetising-room, please.”

Dr. Roberts blinked at Banks, and followed her out.

Sir John went into the theatre and crossed to a small table, enamelled white, on which were various appliances concerned with the business of giving hypodermic injections. There were three syringes, each in a little dish of sterile water. Two were of the usual size known to the layman. The third was so large as to suggest it was intended for veterinary rather than human needs. The small syringes held twenty-five minims each, the larger at least six times as much. An ampoule, a bottle, a small bowl and a measure-glass also stood on the table. The bottle was marked: “Hyoscine solution. 0.25 per cent. Five minims contains 1/100 of a grain.” The ampoule was marked: “Gas-Gangrene Antitoxin (concentrated).” The bowl contained sterile water.

Phillips produced from his pocket a small hypodermic case from which he took a tiny tube labelled: “Hyoscine gr. 1/100.” The tube being completely covered by its label, it was difficult to see the contents. He removed the cork, examined the inside closely, laid down the tube and took another, similarly labelled, from his case. His fingers worked uncertainly, as though his mind was on something else. At last he took one of the smaller syringes, filled it with sterile water, and squirted its contents into the measure-glass. Then he dropped in the hyoscine, stirred it with the needle of the syringe, and finally, pulling back the piston, sucked the solution into the syringe.

Thoms came into the theatre.

“We ought to get washed up, sir,” he said.

He glanced at the table.

“Hullo!” he shouted. “Two tubes! You’re doing him proud.”

“One was empty.” Phillips picked them up automatically and put them back in his case.

Thoms looked at the syringe.

“You use a lot of water, don’t you?” he observed.

“I do,” said Phillips shortly. Taking the syringe with him, he walked out of the theatre into the anæsthetic-room. Thoms, wearing that air of brisk abstraction which people assume when they are determined to ignore a snub, remained staring at the table. He joined the others a few minutes later in the anteroom. Phillips returned from the anæsthetic-room.