The Serpent's Shadow

Parkening approaching from behind his uncle. Yes, I think now is the time. 'It would be so good for sick children if someone like Amelia was in charge of them; she could devote herself entirely to them and their ailments! If only this hospital had a new Poor Children's ward by then, there could be a place for her in it.'

The bishop recognized his cue and came in on it like the seasoned professional he was. 'Well, there are some Royal grants at my disposal—or perhaps I should say, my direction,' he said. 'Their Majesties— Queen Alexandra in particular—are very keen on improving the lot of our poor children, and if you not only have the services of a fine physician like my young friend here, but the prospects of obtaining a second lady doctor like her, I cannot think of a better place in which to bestow the Queen's grant.'

The Bishop beamed, Clayton-Smythe beamed, and Simon Parkening looked as if he'd been struck. At just that moment, his uncle noticed he was there.

'Ah, Simon!' Clayton-Smythe boomed expansively, prepared at this moment to be pleased with anyone who came within his purview, and feeling generous enough to share the reflected glory of his exalted new acquaintance. 'Bishop Mannering, this is my sister's son, Simon Parkening. Not a doctor. I'm afraid, but we can't all be physicians, or there wouldn't be enough patients to go around!' He laughed at his own witticism, and Maya and the bishop joined in politely.

Simon did not. He was looking rather pale, in fact.

A little difficult to accuse someone of immorality who happens to be the 'young friend' of a bishop isn't it, you filthy swine? she thought triumphantly. But she wasn't done with him yet, as he was about to discover.

'Oh, Mr. Parkening is in and out of the hospital quite as much as if he was a doctor,' Maya said, with a light laugh and a penetrating glance at Parkening. 'Some of the staff can't quite understand what he finds so fascinating, but I think there are one or two of us who've penetrated his secret!'

Parkening actually blanched; he went so white even his uncle noticed. 'I say, nephew,' the Head began.

But Maya was already offering a solicitous hand to help Parkening to a nearby chair. 'Goodness, Mr. Parkening,' she said, in tones of false sympathy. 'Didn't your physician tell you that after a heat stroke like the one you suffered yesterday, you should never exert yourself? You really should not have come here today—the wards may not be as dreadful now that the heat has broken, but you should still be taking cooling drinks on a breezy veranda, not tottering about here! I'm sure your business here could bear your absence for a day or two!'

'Heat stroke?' Clayton-Smythe exclaimed in surprise. 'Simon? You suffered a heat stroke here?'

Maya prevented Parkening from explaining by answering before he could. 'Oh, my, yes, Doctor! I found him on the floor of the linen closet in the Women's Charity Ward and had him taken straight up to the Men's Private Ward where he could be properly cooled down with ice and alcohol rubs.' She dropped her gaze modestly—so that Clayton-Smythe would not see the malicious glitter in them. Let the uncle make what he would of his nephew being found in one of the women's wards—and in a storage closet, no less!

Parkening looked positively green.

'What quick thinking, Doctor Witherspoon!' the bishop said cheerfully. 'I must say, I should not worry a jot to find myself in competent hands like yours!'

'I am only one of many who are just as quick-thinking and competent, Bishop,' Maya replied, raising her eyes again. 'Doctor Clayton-Smythe attracts only the best, and I venture to say that those he allows to serve in his hospital are the cream of those. I am just glad he considered that I was good enough to practice in his hospital.'

Clayton-Smythe positively swelled; any more compliments, and Maya was afraid he might burst. There was no doubt now that Maya was not only in his good books, but had risen so far in his eyes that Parkening would not dare molest her now, nor accuse her without absolute and irrevocable proof of misdeeds. And to a certain extent, Maya was not offering empty compliments. This hospital was one of the best; she would not have tried so hard to practice here if it hadn't been.

Parkening had evidently figured out that he was in a dilemma he could not get out of without giving up any hope of revenge on her—and that he would be fortunate if she chose not to play the cards in her hand. The bluff had worked. He could not possibly have looked any greener.

'Mr. Parkening, I really must insist on you seeing your physician,' she chided. 'Please, you simply must go up to the Men's Ward.'

Feebly, he waved her away. 'No, no, I'll be fine. I'll go home, just as you said. Send a messenger to the office—they can do without me, as you said—' He got up and staggered off, much to the surprise of his uncle and the bishop.

'My, my!' the bishop murmured. 'Do you think it's wise to allow him to wander off in that state?'

'Probably not,' Clayton-Smythe replied in irritation. He signaled to one of the orderlies, and murmured to the man, who hurried off after Parkening, as his uncle scowled after both of them.