86 
THE STRAND MAGAZINE. 
Margary said : “ Here’s Dr. Mandeville.” 
He went straight to the bed, thrusting aside 
Mrs. Holloway, who caught hold of him. He 
looked down at the boy and saw him choking, 
cyanosed, blue with oncoming death. The 
child was struggling for life, with the veins 
in his neck turgid and knotted, the face 
swollen and almost black. 
“ When did this come on ? ” asked Mande- 
ville. 
“ Half an hour ago, sir/’ said the nurse. 
Yes, she was a bad nurse — there were tears 
in her eyes. By now a good nurse with her 
wits about her would have done a tracheotomy 
on the boy, if she had had to do it with a pen- 
knife. Old Holloway kept on speaking to 
him, and caught him by the arm as he was 
taking off his coat. Mandeville pushed him 
in the chest ; then he laid hold of him and 
thrust, almost threw, him out of the room 
and pushed his wife after him. He locked 
the door on them. 
If the nurse was a poor thing Margery was 
now extraordinarily cool. She did things, 
and did the right thing. He saw her with a 
basin and a bundle of sterilized wool ; she 
had an open bottle of lysol on the table. He 
had no instruments ; what was to be done 
must be done at once. He put his hand in 
his pocket and took out his pen-knife, which 
he always kept very sharp. Then he made a 
strong solution of lysol in the basin. There 
was a spirit-lamp on the table. He struck a 
match and lighted it, and passed the little 
blade of his knife through the flame. Then 
he wetted it with lysol, wiped it with the 
sterilized wool, and passed it through the 
flame again and threw it into the lysol 
solution." He looked about him, and suddenly 
saw what he wanted. Margery wore in her 
hair square-headed tortoiseshell hair-pins 
that matched its colour. He reached his 
hand out, took one from her hair, and threw 
it in the basin. Then with a pad of the wool 
and the disinfectant he disinfected the skin 
of the boy’s neck. 
“ Bring" that electric lamp close,” he said 
to the nurse. 
She held it close, but her hand shook. He 
turned to Margery. 
“ You hold it, Margery.” And she held it 
firmly. 
“ You needn’t look,” said Mandeville. “ If 
you can’t stand the sight, shut your eyes.” 
But she did not shut them, and watched 
him there and then do a tracheotomy with 
his pocket-knife. There is no such dramatic 
incident in all surgery, which has many such 
moments, as a tracheotomy done when the 
patient is as near death as Holloway’s child. 
One moment the boy was blue, with a con- 
gested face, struggling horribly, at the very 
edge of death. And then, as the knife passed 
through the tracheal ring, there was a little 
gurgle, a splutter. Mandeville reached out 
and, taking the hair-pin, thrust it into the 
operation- wound and turned it sideways. 
He tied it securely with a tape. The boy’s 
breath whistled audibly. He took a deep 
inspiration. His aspect changed with wonder- 
ful rapidity ; his blood was drinking oxygen 
at last. The colour of life came back into his 
face ; it grew peaceful, comfortable. The 
child seemed instantly to pass from struggle 
and painful unconsciousness into an uncon- 
sciousness that was happy, an unconsciousness 
that was little more than that of sleep — a 
pleasant sleep after great fatigue. His skin 
moistened ; there was something on the 
child’s face not unlike a smile. 
Mandeville rose to his feet. 
“ That’s all right,” he said, with satis- 
faction. 
He wiped his knife with a little of the wool, 
closed it, and dropped it into his pocket. He 
turned to Margery, who put the lamp down 
and for the first time trembled. 
“ Oh, Tom I ” she said. “ Tom ! ” 
He went round the bed and took her in his 
arms ; but he said : “ Now go downstairs at 
once and ring up Smith or Savage and tell 
them to come out instantly with a tracheo- 
tomy tube. For the time being the boy’s 
all right ; he won’t die now.” 
Margery half choked. 
“ Thank God you came ! ” she said. 
“ Yes,” said Mandeville. “ But go, do what 
I tell you. I’ll speak to the others.” 
He found Holloway and his wife outside. 
The old man was standing by the banisters, 
clutching them with both hands. Mrs. 
Holloway was on the floor holding him round 
the knees. Mandeville was glad he had good 
news to give them. 
“ Mr. Holloway/’ he said. 
“ Yes,” said Holloway. “ Is— is the boy 
dead ? ” 
“ No,” said Mandeville, “ and I don’t 
suppose he’ll die.” 
He smiled over the banisters at Margery as 
she went downstairs. 
“ Not die ? ” said Holloway, feebly. “ Oh, 
won’t die, eh ? ” He took his wife by the 
hand and said, almost crossly : “ Get up, 
Mary. What are you doing on the floor ? 
The bay’s all right ; the doctor says so.” 
Mrs. Holloway rose and did not speak, but 
she took Mandeville’s hand and kissed it. 
