“I dislike this constant drizzle,” I agreed, without much spirit. “There is something honest and whole-hearted about real rain, but weather like this is wretched.”
“Everything I touch is clammy like—like a dead man.” She whispered the last words and I think they came as a surprise to her, for she looked frightened and a little shocked.
A small red light shone down the corridor above a door and I started to answer it.
“Don’t forget to—er——”
“Keep my eyes on the south door?” finished Maida with a bleak smile.
“Exactly.” I tried to smile, too. I remember thinking, as I walked briskly toward the signal, that our words were not unlike those of soldiers going into battle—in spirit, at least. I saw something of that in 1918; I was in a hospital that was once, mistakenly I hope, shelled. In a choice between the shelled hospital on that lurid front and the dreary, clammy nights of second watch at St. Ann’s, where every stir made your breath catch, and every whispering noise made your skin crawl, I’d much prefer the shelled hospital. There the terror was expected; its source was known. Here, every doorway was a silent menace; every room and every turn and every alcove might harbour death. The hospital seemed too roomy, too large, too dark. Our very skirts seemed to whisper and hiss with fear along those blank corridors and empty walls and half-lights and shadows.
I had left the door of the general office open and while going about my work listened for the telephone. Dr. Hajek is supposed to answer it at night, having his room off the office for that purpose, but I hoped that if I heard the ring when O’Leary first called, I would be able to get to the telephone by the time Fred Hajek, who is a heavy sleeper, was aroused.
And when I finally heard the subdued buzz I happened to be at the chart desk and simply dropped pen and all and ran through the corridor that connects us with the main portion of the hospital.
I took the receiver off the hook and was panting so heavily that I had to wait for a second to catch my breath before answering. The door to Dr. Hajek’s room remained closed and Dr. Balman, in the inner office, had not been aroused either, so I must have made the distance in nothing flat—whatever that is—I picked up the term from a patient who was interested in sports and believe it to mean a very rapid pace.
It was O’Leary, of course.