Jim with a mighty effort said, "Monsieur!" And the rumpled surgeon looked down at him and wiped his fingers on a piece of dirty rag.
"I beg you," said Jim, and the surgeon bent down to him.
"Well?" he said brusquely, for loads of broken men lay waiting for him, and he had cut and carved till his hands and arms were tired and his back stiff with bending.
"I want . . . the Grand Duke's doctor," murmured Jim.
"The deuce you do? Anything else?" And he was going.
"The Grand Duke's own orders. . . He will tell you." And then he went out into the darkness again.
But the feeble words had caused the surgeon to look more closely, and then to make inquiries, and when Jim came back to life he was in bed at Mme Greski's, and Tatia was sitting by the bedside. And to Jim it was like a sudden leap from hell to heaven.
Tatia nodded cheerfully to him.
"Where's Jack?" he asked in a whisper.
"They've not found him yet. They're searching for him," said Tatia, after a moment's hesitation. "You're not to talk, or to think, or do anything but what I tell you. Drink this." And he drank, and fell asleep again.