The attending nurse entered. “The patient’s brother is here,” she announced, “and is asking to see her.”
“Her brother!” The surgeon’s face lighted. “What’s he like?”
“About twenty, Doctor; looks strong and healthy.”
“See him, Nurse. Tell him the facts. Say his sister will die unless he’ll give some blood to her. Or wait!” He turned to Markham. “Harry, you do it! Persuasion’s your line. Make believe he’s a jury. But put it strong, old man! And hurry! Every minute counts!”
The boy was standing stolidly in the waiting-room, only the pallor of his healthy skin and the anxiety of his clear eyes hinting the strain. Markham explained swiftly, concisely.
“Doctor Burroughs says it’s her one chance,” he ended.
The boy drew in his breath and paled visibly.
“You mean Nell’ll die if some one don’t swap his blood for hers?”
“Unless the blood she has lost is replaced——”
“Well, quit beefin’,” interrupted the other roughly. “I’m here, ain’t I?”