"No."
Mackenzie turned and went back to the morphia scales. Something in the work he was doing and the way he was doing it struck Trevelyan.
"Where's the apothecary?" he asked briefly.
Mackenzie balanced the scales carefully.
"Sick," he said.
"Where's Clarke?"
Mackenzie added a fraction of morphia to the scales.
"Sick," he said.
"And the helpers—the orderlies?"
Mackenzie put down the scales, suddenly, and stared at them.