It was Leerie who answered. She was out of her chair at a bound and beside the surgeon, her hand on his arm. “He’s going to operate; he’s got to. There isn’t another skilled hand like his nearer than the Dentons, so he’s got to bring Doctor Dempsy through. Please, Miss Maxwell, leave him to me. I can manage. He’s got four hours to sleep, and then I’ll let him have enough cocaine to steady him. Won’t you trust me?”
“It’s about the only way now.”
Peter left unnoticed. He realized, as he had realized in the sanitarium grounds that afternoon, that he counted about as much in this crisis as a part of the inanimate surroundings. Miss Maxwell joined him a moment later, looking outrageously relieved. She flashed Peter an apologetic smile.
“I know it’s shameless of me to look glad when you look so miserable. But I can’t help feeling that we are going to win. Leerie deserves it after what she’s suffered for him. That man couldn’t fail her, and her trust is bound to make good. Don’t you see?”
Peter’s shoulders gave an unconvincing shrug. “I hope so. He ought to—if he’s half-way a man.” He looked at his watch. “Almost morning now. Guess I’ll pack my things and be ready to start as soon as I know Dempsy’s all right.”
Miss Maxwell held him back for an instant. “I know you’re thinking that all’s wrong with the world, but I know all’s right. Go and pack if you must, but please stay in your room until I send you word. Promise?”
And not caring, Peter promised.
From seven o’clock on Peter paced the room among his packed luggage and counted the minutes. He wondered how long his patience would last and when his misery would stop growing. The burden of both had become unbearable. At eight-thirty a sharp knock sounded and he sprang to the door. On the threshold stood a nurse in surgical wrappings, with eyes that shone like a whole firmament of stars and a mouth that curved to the gentle demureness of a nun. Peter stood and stared at this unexpected apparition of the old Leerie.
“Well,” said the apparition, smiling radiantly as of old, “I’m a messenger of glad tidings. Won’t you ask me to come in?”
Peter flushed and drew her to a chair.