“You are quite sure?  You are holding back nothing?  There has been no coercion?”

“It’s all right,” chirped in Blizzard.  “Glad of the chance to pay me back, aren’t you, my boy?”

For a moment Wilmot’s eyes rested with a cold contempt on the beggar’s.  And he thought, “to save her from that!” and once more nodded.

“Shall I tell them to bring the ether, doctor?”

Dr. Ferris turned his head slowly.

“What are you doing here?” he said, in his smiling professional voice.  “You ought to be undressed, scrubbed, and ready for the anaesthetic yourself.”

“But I thought—­I thought you’d make sure of the legs first, before you did anything to me.”

“The success of graftage,” said the doctor, “lies in the speed with which the parts to be grafted can be transferred from one patient to the other.  In this case, the two operations will proceed at the same time—­side by side.  There are four of us, and two nurses to do what is necessary—­now if you will go and get ready.”

“Frankly, doctor, do you think the chances of success are good?”

Dr. Ferris’s voice rang out heartily.  “Splendid!” he said, “splendid!” He turned once more to Wilmot.  “I am sorry for you,” he said kindly, “but you are willing that we should go ahead, aren’t you?”

Blizzard stood, hesitating.

“Not losing your nerve?” asked the surgeon, and there was the least hint of mockery in his voice.

“Hope this is the last time I have to walk on stumps,” Blizzard answered, and he began to move toward the door.

“I hope so, too, Blizzard,” said Dr. Ferris, “with all my heart.”  And with an encouraging nod to Wilmot he followed the beggar out of the room, and closed the door behind him.

In the operating quarter were two nurses on whom Dr. Ferris had been able to rely for many years, and three clean-cut young surgeons, in whom he had detected more than ordinary talents.

“He said he’d send word when he was ready,” said one of the nurses.

“Good,” said Dr. Ferris, “for I have a few words to say to you all, knowing that, because of the etiquette of our profession, these words will not go any further.”

For five minutes he spoke quietly and gravely.  He told them his relations with Blizzard since the beginning.  And something of Blizzard’s relations, subsequent to the loss of his legs, with the rest of the world.  Then he explained the operation which he was expected to perform, enlarging upon both its chances for success and for failure.  And then, much to the astonishment of his audience, he brought his talk to an end with these words: