The Ghost: A Modern Fantasy - Page 17/126

The left thigh was broken near the knee-joint. So much I ascertained

at once. As I manipulated the limb to catch the sound of the crepitus

the injured man screamed, and he was continually in very severe pain.

He did not, however, again lose consciousness.

"I must have a stretcher, and he must be carried to a room. I can't

do anything here," I said to Sir Cyril. "And you had better send for a

first-rate surgeon. Sir Francis Shorter would do very well--102

Manchester Square, I think the address is. Tell him it's a broken

thigh. It will be a serious case."

"Let me send for my doctor--Professor Eugene Churt," Rosa said. "No

one could be more skilful."

"Pardon me," I protested, "Professor Churt is a physician of great

authority, but he is not a surgeon, and here he would be useless."

She bowed--humbly, as I thought.

With such materials as came to hand I bound Alresca's legs together,

making as usual the sound leg fulfil the function of a splint to the

other one, and he was placed on a stretcher. It was my first case, and

it is impossible for me to describe my shyness and awkwardness as the

men who were to carry the stretcher to the dressing-room looked

silently to me for instructions.

"Now," I said, "take short steps, keep your knees bent, but don't on

any account keep step. As gently as you can--all together--lift."

Rosa followed the little procession as it slowly passed through the

chaotic anarchy of the stage. Alresca was groaning, his eyes closed.

Suddenly he opened them, and it seemed as though he caught sight of

her for the first time. He lifted his head, and the sweat stood in

drops on his brow.

"Send her away!" he cried sharply, in an agony which was as much

mental as physical. "She is fatal to me."

The bearers stopped in alarm at this startling outburst; but I ordered

them forward, and turned to Rosa. She had covered her face with her

hands, and was sobbing.

"Please go away," I said. "It is very important he should not be

agitated."

Without quite intending to do so, I touched her on the shoulder.

"Alresca doesn't mean that!" she stammered.

Her blue eyes were fixed on me, luminous through her tears, and I

feasted on all the lovely curves of that incomparable oval which was

her face.

"I am sure he doesn't," I answered. "But you had better go, hadn't

you?"