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Updated: September 11, 2025
After questioning and examining her, Lydgate said to the house-surgeon in an undertone, "It's not tumor: it's cramp." He ordered her a blister and some steel mixture, and told her to go home and rest, giving her at the same time a note to Mrs. Larcher, who, she said, was her best employer, to testify that she was in need of good food.
He obtained the assistance of P.C.'s 218A and 343A, and the gentleman, who was not identified, was taken to the Charing Cross Hospital, where the house-surgeon expressed a doubt whether he could live. Neither P.C.'s recollect having noticed any suspicious-looking person in the vicinity. "JOHN PERCIVAL, Inspector."
"I have seen them talking with him in Gower Street." "What's his name?" asked Ayscough, pulling out a note-book. "Mr. Mori Yada," answered the house-surgeon promptly. "He lives in Gower Street I don't know the precise number of the house. Yes, that's the way to spell his name. He's the only man I know who seemed to know these two." "Have you seen him lately?" asked Ayscough.
For the moneychanger, the wagermonger, creeps in and degrades the noble science of damaging one's fellow-man effectively; even as in old years he brought discredit on cock-fighting, in which at least you cannot deny it the bird cuts a better figure than he does in his native farmyard. "Come round after twelve to-morrow, and we may know more," said the House-Surgeon.
He had been inwardly annoyed, however, when he had asked at the Infirmary about the woman he had recommended two days before, to hear from the house-surgeon, a youngster who was not sorry to vex Minchin with impunity, exactly what had occurred: he privately pronounced that it was indecent in a general practitioner to contradict a physician's diagnosis in that open manner, and afterwards agreed with Wrench that Lydgate was disagreeably inattentive to etiquette.
The house-surgeon reflected for a moment then he suddenly drew out a small memorandum book from an inner pocket. "Perhaps I can," he answered, turning the pages over. "Yes both these men should have been in attendance on me a class of my own, you know on the 20th, at 10.35. They didn't turn up. I've never seen them since in fact, I'm sure they've never been at the hospital since."
Both have had considerable practical experience of medicine and surgery; he as house-surgeon of a great London hospital; she as a very earnest student, tested by severe examination, and also as a nurse of the sick poor during the prevalence of cholera.
What the dresser could manage himself he did, but if there was anything important he sent for the house-surgeon: he did this with care, since the house-surgeon was not vastly pleased to be dragged down five flights of stairs for nothing. The cases ranged from a cut finger to a cut throat.
Chance alone had brought them face to face again, for Ferrand was not a believer, and if he found himself in that train it was simply because he had at the last moment consented to take the place of a friend who was suddenly prevented from coming. For nearly a twelvemonth he had been a house-surgeon at the Hospital of La Pitie.
"I had an idea," said she in a low voice, "of sending for Monsieur Ferrand, the house-surgeon, you know, who accompanies us. He would have given the poor girl something to calm her. Only he is busy downstairs trying to relieve Brother Isidore, in the Family Ward.
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