and his heart was sore within
him.

"Not in yet, sir. A Mr. Le Moyne is bringing him. Staff's in the
executive committee room, sir."

"But--who has been shot? I thought you said--"

The Lamb turned pale at that, and braced himself.

"I'm sorry--I thought you understood. I believe it's not--not serious.
It's Dr. Max, sir."

Dr. Ed, who was heavy and not very young, sat down on an office chair.
Out of sheer habit he had brought the bag. He put it down on the floor
beside him, and moistened his lips.

"Is he living?"

"Oh, yes, sir. I gathered that Mr. Le Moyne did not think it serious."

He lied, and Dr. Ed knew he lied.

The Lamb stood by the door, and Dr. Ed sat and waited. The office
clock said half after three. Outside the windows, the night world went
by--taxi-cabs full of roisterers, women who walked stealthily close
to the buildings, a truck carrying steel, so heavy that it shook the
hospital as it rumbled by.

Dr. Ed sat and waited. The bag with the dog-collar in it was on the
floor. He thought of many things, but mostly of the promise he had made
his mother. And, having forgotten the injured man's shortcomings, he
was remembering his good qualities--his cheerfulness, his courage, his
achievements. He remembered the day Max had done the Edwardes operation,
and how proud he had been of him. He figured out how old he was--not
thirty-one yet, and already, perhaps--There he stopped thinking. Cold
beads of sweat stood out on his forehead.

"I think I hear them now, sir," said the Lamb, and stood back
respectfully to let him pass out of the door.

Carlotta stayed in the room during the consultation. No one seemed to
wonder why she was there, or to pay any attention to her. The staff was
stricken. They moved back to make room for Dr. Ed beside the bed, and
then closed in again.

Carlotta waited, her hand over her mouth to keep herself from screaming.
Surely they would operate; they wouldn't let him die like that!

When she saw the phalanx break up, and realized that they would not
operate, she went mad. She stood against the door, and accused them of
cowardice--taunted them.

"Do you think he would let any of you die like that?" she cried. "Die
like a hurt dog, and none of you to lift a hand?"

It was Pfeiffer who drew her out of the room and tried to talk reason
and sanity to her.

"It's hopeless," he said. "If there was a chance, we'd operate, and you
know it."

The staff went hopelessly down t