The Nursing Home Murder Read Online Free PDF Page B

“won’t you change your mind? I love you so much.”
    “No,” she said. “No I loathe him. I never want to see him again, but as long as he’s alive I can’t marry you.”
    “I don’t understand you,” he said heavily.
    “I don’t understand myself,” answered Jane, “so how should you?”
    “I shall go on — I shall ask you again and again.”
    “It’s no good. I suppose I’m queer, but as long as he’s there I–I’m in pawn.”
    “It’s insane — after his treatment of you. He’s — he’s discarded you, Jane.”
    She laughed harshly.
    “Oh, yes. It’s quite according to Victorian tradition. I’m a ‘ruined girl,’ you know!”
    “Well, stick to the Victorian tradition and let me make an honest woman of.you.”
    “Look here,” said Jane suddenly, “I’ll try and be an honest woman
with
you. I mean I’ll try and explain what’s inexplicable and pretty humiliating. I told him I wanted to live my own life, experience everything, all that sort of chat. I deceived myself as well as him. In the back of my mind I knew I was simply a fool who had lost her head as well as her heart. Then, when it happened, I realised just how little it meant to him and just how much it meant to me. I knew I ought to keep up the game, shake hands and part friends, and all that. Well — I couldn’t. My pride wanted to, but — I couldn’t. It’s all too grimly commonplace. I ‘loved and hated’ him at the same time. I wanted to keep him, knew I hadn’t a chance, and longed to hurt him. I wrote to him and told him so. It’s a nightmare and it’s still going on. There! Don’t ask me to talk about it again. Leave me alone to get over it as best I may.”
    “Couldn’t I help?”
    “No. Someone’s coming — be careful.”
    Thoms and Roberts returned and washed up. Roberts went away to give the anæsthetic. Phillips stood and watched his assistant.
    “How did your play end?” he asked suddenly.
    “What? Oh. Back to the conversation we first thought of. It ended in doubt. You were left to wonder if the patient died under the anæsthetic, or if the surgeon did him in. As a matter of fact, under the circumstances, no one could have found out. Are you thinking of trying it out on the Home Secretary, sir? I thought you were a pal of his?”
    The mask over Phillips’s face creased as though he were smiling. “Given the circumstances,” he said, “I suppose it might be a temptation.”
    He heard a movement behind him and turned to see Nurse Banks regarding him fixedly from the door into the theatre. Sister Marigold appeared behind her, said: “If you please, nurse,” in a frigid voice, and came through the door.
    “Oh, matron,” said Phillips abruptly, “I have given an injection of hyoscine, as usual. If we find peritonitis, as I think we shall, I shall also inject serum.”
    “I remembered the hyoscine, of course, Sir John. The stock solution had been put out, but I saw you had prepared your own injection.”
    “Yes, we won’t need the stock solution. Always use my own tablets — like to be sure of the correct dosage. Are we all ready?”
    He went into the theatre.
    “Well,” said Sister Marigold, “I’m sure the stock solution is good enough for most people.”
    “You can’t be too careful, matron,” Thoms assured her genially. “Hyoscine’s a ticklish drug, you know.”
    The sickly reek of ether began to drift into the room.
    “I must say I don’t quite understand why Sir John is so keen on giving hyoscine.”
    “It saves anæsthetic and it has a soothing effect after the operation. I give it myself,” added Thoms importantly.
    “What is the usual dose, sir?” asked Nurse Banks abruptly.
    “From a hundredth to a two-hundredth of a grain, nurse.”
    “As little as that!”
    “Oh, yes. I can’t tell you the minimum lethal dose — varies with different cases. A quarter-grain would do anyone in.”
    “A quarter of a grain,” said Nurse Banks thoughtfully.