could get antitoxin and sulfa for the Pommy. Oh, my word, yes - and he'd give it to him for nothing.
But Timsen was much too clever to allow the King to see through him.
That would be childish, to let the King know he'd a soft spot, for sure as God's country was Down Under, the King'd use that as a lever sometime later on. Yus, an' he had to have the King for the deal of the diamond. Oh bugger! I'd forgotten about that duty bushwhacker.
So Timsen named an extortionate figure and allowed himself to be beaten down. But he made the price steep, for he knew the King could afford it, and if he said he'd get the goods for a low price, the King'd be very suspicious.
'All right,' the King said glumly. 'You got a deal.' Inside he wasn't glum.
Not too glum. He'd expected Timsen to soak him, but although the price was higher than he wanted to pay, it was fair.
'It'll take three days,' Timsen said, knowing that three days would be too late.
'I've got to have it tonight.'
'Then it'll cost another five hundred.'
'I'm a friend of yours!' the King said, feeling real pain. 'We're buddies and you stick me for another five C's.'
'All right, cobber.' Timsen was sad, doglike. 'But you know how it is.
Three days is the best I can do.'
'Goddammit. All right.'
'And the nurse'll be an extra five hundred.'
'For Chrissake! What the hell's the nurse for?'
Timsen enjoyed seeing the King squirm. 'Well,' he said agreeably,
'what're you going to do with the stuff when you've got it? How you going to treat the patient?'
'How the hell do I know?'
'That's what the five hundred's for. I suppose you're going to give the stuff to the Pommy and he's going to take it up to the 'ospital and say to the nearest sawbones, 'I got hantitoxin and sulfa, fix my bleedin' arm up,' and then the doc's going to say, 'We ain't got no hantitoxin so where the 'ell did you get this from,' and when the Pommy won't tell, the bastards'll steal it off him and give it to some stinking Limey colonel who's a slight case of piles.'
He deftly took the packet of cigarettes out of the King's pocket and helped himself. 'And,' he said, but now completely serious, 'you have to find a place where you can treat him private-like. Where he can lie down. These hantitoxins're tough on some men. An' part of the deal's that I accept no responsibility if the treatment turns sour.'
'If you've got antitoxin and sulfa, what can go sour?'
'Some folks can't take it. Nausea. Tough. And it mayn't work. Depends how much of the toxin's already in his system.'
Timsen got up. 'Sometime tonight. Oh yes, an' the equipment'll cost another five hundred.'
The King exploded. 'What equipment, for Chrissake?'
'Hypodermics and bandages and soap. Jesus!' Timsen was almost disgusted. 'You think hantitoxin's a pill you stick up 'is arse?'
The King stared after Timsen sourly, kicking himself. Thought you were so clever, didn't you, finding out what cured gangrene for a cigarette and then, nut-head, you forget to ask what the hell you did with the stuff once you got it.
Well, the hell with it. The dough's committed. And Pete's got his arm back.
And the cost's all right too.
Then the King remembered the foxy little hijacker and he beamed. Yes, he felt very pleased with the day's work.
Chapter 21
That evening Peter Marlowe gave his food away. He did not give it to Mac or Larkin as he should, but to Ewart. He knew that if he had given it to his unit they would have forced him to reveal what was the matter. And there was no point in telling them.
That afternoon, sick with pain and worry, he had gone to see Dr. Kennedy.
Again he had almost been crazed with agony while the bandage was ripped away. Then the doctor had said simply, 'The poison's above the elbow. I can amputate below, but it's a waste of time. Might as well do the operation in one time. You'll have a nice stump — at least five inches from the shoulder. Enough for an artificial arm to be strapped to. Quite enough.'
Kennedy had templed his fingers calmly. 'Don't waste any more time, Marlowe,' and he had laughed dryly and quipped, 'Domani e troppo tardi,'
and when Peter Marlowe had looked at him blankly without understanding, he had said flatly, 'Tomorrow may be too late.'
Peter Marlowe had stumbled back to his bunk and had lain in a pool of fear. Then dinner had come and he had given it away.
'You got fever?' Ewart said happily, filled by the extra food.
'No.'
'Can I get you anything?'
'For Christ's sake leave me alone!' Peter Marlowe turned away from Ewart. After a time he got up and left
