George said, “Ain’t you goin’ up?”
“Best not. I can’t do anythin’.”
They stood there listening for several minutes, and then, as they turned to go back to the room, the scream came again. Both men stiffened.
Overhead a door opened and light streamed on to the stairs. Heavy deliberate footsteps came down the passage and the doctor appeared at the head of the stairs. He stood looking down at the two men in the hallway. He was wiping his hands on a towel. He came down slowly, still using the towel.
Silently the two men backed into the sitting-room as he approached, and the doctor came in and half shut the door behind him. A nerve in his face kept twitching, and his cold eyes were dreadfully bored.
He said to Alfy, “Your wife’s havin’ a bad time.” Carefully he began to fold the towel. “She ought never to have had a child. Too narrow. I don’t think I can save the child. I could try, but it would be very dangerous.”
A low sigh from George caused the doctor to look at him sharply. He said impatiently: “Hold up, man, hold up. I’ve got enough on my hands without looking after you.”
George sat down and put his hands over his face. Alfy looked at him very strangely.
The doctor said impatiently again, “What do you want me to do?”
Still Alfy looked at George, a little white ring round his mouth.