“It’s Doctor Griswold,” observed Louise. “He made a quick trip from town.”
Penny ran to open the door for the two men. Then, at the doctor’s bidding, she went to the kitchen again for the boiling water.
“You carry it in,” urged Louise. “I can’t bear to see poor Anchor Joe.”
The linemen had left by the time Penny reentered the bedroom. The doctor was working over Anchor Joe, and she observed in relief that he had recovered consciousness.
“Where do you feel pain?” the doctor inquired as he unfastened the man’s shirt.
“My back and chest, doc,” the sailor mumbled. “Feels like all my insides is crushed.”
“Hardly that,” said the doctor cheerfully, “or you wouldn’t be telling me about it. Now let’s see.”
He took Anchor Joe’s pulse, then gently probed his chest and sponged a break in the skin. Carefully he turned the man upon his back.
Penny drew in her breath, nearly dropping the pan of water. Across Anchor Joe’s back was tattooed the sprawling figure of an octopus. She bent closer. Beneath the front arms of the repulsive sea creature appeared a single word: One.
“John Munn’s tattoo was exactly the same, save for the word!” thought Penny. “It was ‘All’ while this is ‘One.’ What can be the significance?”