Haig's face.
'Here's your doctor, Father,' Bruce announced.
Ignatius lifted the lantern and peered through his spectacles at
Haig.
Is he sick?' No, Father,' said Bruce. 'He's drunk.'
'Drunk? Then he can't operate?'
'Yes, he damn well can!' Bruce took Haig through the door and along the
passage to the little theatre. Ignatius and
Sharmaine followed them.
'Sharmaine, go with luther and help him bring the woman,' Bruce ordered,
and they went; then he turned his attention back to Haig.
'Are you so far down there in the slime that you can't understand me!'
'I can't do it, Bruce. It's no good.'
'Then she'll die. But this much is certain: you are going to make the
attempt.'
'I've got to have a drink, Bruce.' Haig licked his lips. 'It's burning
me up inside, you've got to give me one.'
'Finish the job and I'll give you a whole case.'
'I've got to have one now.'
'No.' Bruce spoke with finality.
'Have a look at what they've got here in the way of instruments. Can
you do it with these?' Bruce crossed to the sterilizer and lifted the
lid, the steam came up out of it in a cloud. Haig looked in also.
'That's all I need, but there's not enough light in here, and I
need a drink.'
'I'll get you more light. Start cleaning up.'
'Bruce, please let me-'
'Shut up,' snarled Bruce. 'There's the basin. Start getting ready.' Haig
crossed to the handbasin; he was more steady on his feet and his
features had firmed a little. You poor old bastard, thought Bruce, I
hope you can do it. My God, how much I hope you can.
'Get a move on, Haig, we haven't got all night.'
Bruce left the room and went quickly down the passage to the ward.
The windows of the theatre were fixed and Haig could escape only into
the passage. Bruce knew that he could catch him if he tried to run for
it.
He looked into the ward. Shermaine and Ignatius, with the help of an
African orderly, had lifted the woman on to the theatre trolley.
'Father, we need more light.'
'I can get you another lantern, that's all.'
'Good, do that then. I'll take the woman through.' Father
Ignatius disappeared with the orderly and Bruce helped Shermaine
manoeuvre the trolley down the length of the ward and into the passage.
The woman was whimpering with pain, and her face was grey, waxy grey.
They only go like that when they are very frightened, or when they are
dying.
'She hasn't much longer,' he said.
'know,' agreed Shermaine. 'We must hurry.' The woman moved restlessly on
the trolley and gabbled a few words; then she sighed so that the great
