The Lamb wakened then, and roused the house. He was incoherent, rather, so that Dr. Ed got the impression that it was Le Moyne who had been shot, and only learned the truth when he got to the hospital.
“Where is he?” he demanded. He liked K., and his heart was sore within him.
“Not in yet, sir. A Mr. Le Moyne is bringing him. Staff's in the executive committee room, sir.”
“But—who has been shot? I thought you said—”
The Lamb turned pale at that, and braced himself.
“I'm sorry—I thought you understood. I believe it's not—not serious. It's Dr. Max, sir.”
Dr. Ed, who was heavy and not very young, sat down on an office chair. Out of sheer habit he had brought the bag. He put it down on the floor beside him, and moistened his lips.
“Is he living?”
“Oh, yes, sir. I gathered that Mr. Le Moyne did not think it serious.”
He lied, and Dr. Ed knew he lied.