“How do you feel?”
“If there’s a healthier specimen in this hospital than Dr. Bruno,” Morrissey said, “I’ve yet to hear of it. I’ll be back. I’ve got to check a patient.” He went out.
Bruno lay back on his pillow.
“I’ll be up and around tomorrow,” he said, “and I’ll want to make some tests on Gregson then. Meanwhile, I’ll relax—for a change. One good thing about this place; the routine’s so perfect that you can unhitch yourself completely and let yourself rest, if you want to. A dependable staff.”
The Venetian blind clattered in the wind. Parsons grunted and went toward it, taking hold of the cord.
He raised the blind and stood there, his back to Bruno. But it was dark outside the window.
“The sun was in my eyes,” Bruno said. “Wait a minute! That was only a little while ago. Parsons, something’s wrong!”
“What?” Parsons asked, without turning.
“Morrissey said I was unconscious for only two hours. And I took anesthesia at half-past nine. At night! But the sun was shining in that window when I woke up, a few minutes ago!”
“It’s night now,” Parsons said.