She spoke primly, her lips opening and shutting on her words like a kind of mechanical valve. But while she spoke she flashed her eyes at the younger doctor with a feline cajolery in their hard brown depths.
“Then who,” murmured Sir Slasher, thoughtfully—“Who is to carry on his vast business concerns? Who is to inherit his enormous fortune?”
No answer was forthcoming to this profound proposition.
Sir Slasher thereupon removed his hands from under his coat-tails, and consulted his watch.
“I must be going,”—he said—“You will attend to all that is necessary, Nurse?”
“Certainly, Sir Slasher!”
“I shall bring Dr. Choke-Em-Off with me to-morrow—and I think—yes, I think”—here he looked benevolently considerate—“that taking into account Mr. McNason’s great wealth and important position, and—er—also—er—the very great difficulty and uncertainty of the operation, Dr. Choke-Em-Off’s fee should be doubled! He is one of our best anæsthetists—what do you say, Nurse?”
Sir Slasher had a delightful smile, and he was smiling delightfully now. Nurse Drat-Em-All responded to the charm of it.
“There is no doubt that it is justifiably a case of double fees all round!” she said, her own smile breaking into a giggle.
“Exactly!” And Sir Slasher shed a fatherly glance upon her—“And our young friend here”—at this he laid a hand on his fellow-surgeon’s shoulder—“Our young and brilliant friend will also have an opportunity of displaying his skill and securing his reward! Of course,”—here he became portentously business-like—“it will be advisable to get the patient to sign the required cheques in advance,—there will be no difficulty about that I should imagine! Because you see,—afterwards!”