Round The Red Lamp | Page 7

other of
the puffing Billy. It's Lister's antiseptic spray, you know, and Archer's
one of the carbolic-acid men. Hayes is the leader of the
cleanliness-and-cold-water school, and they all hate each other like
poison."
A flutter of interest passed through the closely packed benches as a
woman in petticoat and bodice was led in by two nurses. A red woolen
shawl was draped over her head and round her neck. The face which
looked out from it was that of a woman in the prime of her years, but
drawn with suffering, and of a peculiar beeswax tint. Her head drooped
as she walked, and one of the nurses, with her arm round her waist, was
whispering consolation in her ear. She gave a quick side-glance at the
instrument table as she passed, but the nurses turned her away from it.
"What ails her?" asked the novice.
"Cancer of the parotid. It's the devil of a case; extends right away back
behind the carotids. There's hardly a man but Archer would dare to

follow it. Ah, here he is himself!"
As he spoke, a small, brisk, iron-grey man came striding into the room,
rubbing his hands together as he walked. He had a clean-shaven face,
of the naval officer type, with large, bright eyes, and a firm, straight
mouth. Behind him came his big house- surgeon, with his gleaming
pince-nez, and a trail of dressers, who grouped themselves into the
corners of the room.
"Gentlemen," cried the surgeon in a voice as hard and brisk as his
manner, "we have here an interesting case of tumour of the parotid,
originally cartilaginous but now assuming malignant characteristics,
and therefore requiring excision. On to the table, nurse! Thank you!
Chloroform, clerk! Thank you! You can take the shawl off, nurse."
The woman lay back upon the water-proofed pillow, and her murderous
tumour lay revealed. In itself it was a pretty thing--ivory white, with a
mesh of blue veins, and curving gently from jaw to chest. But the lean,
yellow face and the stringy throat were in horrible contrast with the
plumpness and sleekness of this monstrous growth. The surgeon placed
a hand on each side of it and pressed it slowly backwards and forwards.
"Adherent at one place, gentlemen," he cried. "The growth involves the
carotids and jugulars, and passes behind the ramus of the jaw, whither
we must be prepared to follow it. It is impossible to say how deep our
dissection may carry us. Carbolic tray. Thank you! Dressings of
carbolic gauze, if you please! Push the chloroform, Mr. Johnson. Have
the small saw ready in case it is necessary to remove the jaw."
The patient was moaning gently under the towel which had been placed
over her face. She tried to raise her arms and to draw up her knees, but
two dressers restrained her. The heavy air was full of the penetrating
smells of carbolic acid and of chloroform. A muffled cry came from
under the towel, and then a snatch of a song, sung in a high, quavering,
monotonous voice:
"He says, says he,

If you fly with me
You'll be mistress of the ice-cream van.
You'll be mistress of the----"
It mumbled off into a drone and stopped. The surgeon came across, still
rubbing his hands, and spoke to an elderly man in front of the novice.
"Narrow squeak for the Government," he said.
"Oh, ten is enough."
"They won't have ten long. They'd do better to resign before they are
driven to it."
"Oh, I should fight it out."
"What's the use. They can't get past the committee even if they got a
vote in the House. I was talking to----"
"Patient's ready, sir," said the dresser.
"Talking to McDonald--but I'll tell you about it presently." He walked
back to the patient, who was breathing in long, heavy gasps. "I
propose," said he, passing his hand over the tumour in an almost
caressing fashion, "to make a free incision over the posterior border,
and to take another forward at right angles to the lower end of it. Might
I trouble you for a medium knife, Mr. Johnson?"
The novice, with eyes which were dilating with horror, saw the surgeon
pick up the long, gleaming knife, dip it into a tin basin, and balance it
in his fingers as an artist might his brush. Then he saw him pinch up the
skin above the tumour with his left hand. At the sight his nerves, which
had already been tried once or twice that day, gave way utterly. His
head swain round, and he felt that in another instant he might faint. He
dared not look at the patient. He dug his thumbs into his ears lest some
scream should come to haunt him, and he fixed his eyes