“Was—­she—­hurt?”

“No,” said the blue and white woman, very kindly.  “Only slightly bruised.”

The next day he summoned her again.  As before, she bent very low to catch the gasping words:  “Where is-my—­father?”

“He had to go to town on business.  He will come back just as soon as he can.”

“He-is—­dead,” said Allison, with difficulty.  “Nothing else—­could take-him-away—­now.”

“No,” she assured him, “you must believe me.  He’s all right.  Everybody else is all right and we hope you soon will be.”

“No use—­talking of—­it,” he breathed, hoarsely.  “I know.”

Singly, by twos and even threes, the strange men continued to come from the City.  Allison submitted wearily to the painful examinations that seemed so unnecessary.  Some of the men seemed kind, even sympathetic.  Others were cold and impassive, like so many machines.  Still others, and these were in the majority, were almost brutal.

It was one of the latter sort who one day drew a chair up to the side of the bed with a scraping noise that made the recumbent figure quiver from head to foot.  The man’s face was almost colourless, his bulging blue eyes were cold and fish-like, distorted even more by the strong lenses of his spectacles.

“Better have it over with,” he suggested.  “I can do it now.”

“Do what?” asked Allison, with difficulty.

“Amputate your hand.  There’s no chance.”

The blue and white young woman then on duty came forward.  “I beg your pardon, Doctor, but Colonel Kent left strict orders not to operate without his consent.”

The strange man disdained to answer the nurse, but turned to Allison again.  “Do you know where your father can be reached by wire?”

“My father—­is dead,” Allison insisted.  He closed his eyes and would answer no more questions.  In the next room, he heard the nurse and the doctor talking in low tones that did not carry.  Only one word rose above the murmur:  “delusion.”

Allison repeated it to himself as he sank into the darkness again, wondering what it meant and of whom they were speaking.

Slowly he recovered from the profound shock, but his hand did not improve.  He had an idea that the ceaseless bandaging and unbandaging were dangerous as well as painful, but said nothing.  He knew that his career had come to its end before it had really begun, but it did not seem to affect him in any way.  He considered it unemotionally and impersonally, when he thought of it at all.

Two more men came together.  One was brutal, the other merely cold.  They shook their heads and went away.  A few days later, a man of the rare sort came; a gentle, kindly, sympathetic soul, who seemed human and real.

After the examination was finished, Allison asked, briefly:  “Any chance?”

The kindly man hesitated for an instant, then told the truth.  “I’m afraid not.”