“Is it anything serious?,” asked Eric, disregarding the hint.
“‘Bicarbonate of soda and bismuth’,” read the doctor. “How old are you, Eric? Six? Seven? It’s a very ordinary business; and there’ll be no danger, if we are careful; but I somehow don’t think eau-de-cologne quite meets the case, my learned colleague. I’m going to write a note, and you’re going to take it away in a taxi and bring back a nurse. That child’s not to move for three weeks. She won’t want to, for a day or two, because she’s in considerable pain; and, after that, she’ll be very weak. And, after that,—well, you may feel that Providence has stepped in and solved a good many future difficulties for you. It’s a curious thing—”
“Is she in danger?,” Eric interrupted, as the doctor’s meaning became clear to him.
“We-ell, it’s worse than a cut finger and not as bad as a broken back. Perhaps I may be allowed to point out that you do no good to any one by getting into a panic. I’ll tell you that she needs careful handling; and we’ll leave it at that, because that part’s my job. But you’ve to keep your head and lend me your inventive and dramatic genius. We’ve to concoct a convincing lie over this. What are we going to say is the matter with her?”
Eric sat heavily on the arm of a chair, too much numbed to think.
“I leave that to you,” he answered with a helpless shake of the head.
“Then I make it appendicitis. We must study our parts; she must have been troubled with pains and sickness, and I recommended an immediate operation... We’ll make a good lie, while we’re about it; I happen to know that Fitz-William is ill and Greenaway’s fishing in Ireland; they’re the obvious men, so we’ll say we tried to get them to operate; when they couldn’t come, I said we daren’t wait and I’d operate myself. You, meanwhile, tried to telephone to the girl’s mother, but the line was engaged. I think that holds water... I’ll get hold of a nurse I can trust and explain to her... Can you pick any holes in that?”
“Is it all right as regards the law?”
“Yes, unless she’s inconsiderate enough to go and die. I don’t put my name to a false certificate to oblige you or any one, friend Eric; and, if it were anybody else, I wouldn’t touch the whole business with a pole. But, if she pulls through—as she’s going to—, we don’t do any good by telling the truth and we don’t harm any one but ourselves by telling a good, saving lie. Give me a sheet of paper and a pen. And, when you’ve got the nurse, go off to this girl’s mother and pitch her this yarn. She can come and see her for a moment, if she insists, but you can quote all my degrees and decorations to her and say that I’m very strongly against it. Now, d’you think that’s clear?”
He dropped into a chair by the writing-table without waiting for an answer. Eric stood for a moment, trying to remember and understand all that he had been told; then he fetched a hat and stick and returned for the letter.