accompanying Perdido carried a candle which he inserted in a metal ring set into the wall for this purpose. The general walked over to Farrell and looked down at him contemptuously. Clearly he, too, was furious.
Mrs. Pollifax said coldly, “I have asked for water and bandages and no one brings them. If I may be so presumptuous as to make a suggestion, General, why don’t you shoot Mr. Farrell? It would be much more efficient because he is making a great deal of bothersome noise and what’s worse he is bleeding all over your furniture.”
General Perdido turned on her angrily. “I find you insolent, Mrs. Pollifax.”
“I
feel
insolent,” retorted Mrs. Pollifax. “Perhaps you would like to shoot me as well.”
For a moment she thought that General Perdido was going to strike her. She almost hoped that he would for her rage was nearly uncontainable and she would have welcomed violence, even if directed at herself. But his hand fell. He glared again at the moaning Farrell and turned on his heel. At the door he said to Major Vassovic, “Give the woman the water and bandages she asks for. Perhaps she can revive the prisoner for questioning.” He turned and gave Mrs. Pollifax a tight, sadistic smile. “For questioning and other things.” With this he marched out.
Major Vassovic looked doubtfully at Mrs. Pollifax. “Water? Bandages? You are a nurse?”
“No, a human being,” she snapped, and sat down again beside Farrell’s cot.
The major returned with strips of cloth and a pitcher of water. He stood and watched while Mrs. Pollifax moistened Farrell’s lips and untied the tourniquet. “You have been loosening it?” he asked.
She nodded. The bleeding had stopped; Mrs. Pollifax placed the blanket to one side and walked over to her cot and rolled back the mattress. The cot was made of wood, with rough slats to support the thin hard mattress. She removed two of the slats and carried them back to Farrell’s bed.
“What do you do now?” asked Major Vassovic curiously.
“I intend to set his leg.”
Major Vassovic looked astonished. “
Zott!
You know how?”
“No,” replied Mrs. Pollifax, “but someone has to. I’m hoping you will help me.”
He said stiffly, “I have no orders.”
“But you are here, and you are a man and he is a man, and do you think any leg should look like that?”
“I have no orders,” he repeated, and went out.
Mrs. Pollifax felt suddenly very tired. She looked at Farrell and she looked at his leg and she knew that she would bungle the job alone. Gritting her teeth she leaned over him and began ripping away his trouser leg. “I will not faint,” she told herself, “I will not, I will not. Surely I can push one of those bones back myself. It certainly ought to be done now, while he’s unconscious.” She stood back and looked at the leg, alreadyswollen and red and turning black and blue, and she thought forlornly, “I wish I had another aspirin.”
The door behind her opened so quietly that Mrs. Pollifax started when a low voice said, “Lulash.”
She turned. One of the guards stood there, his finger to his lips, nodding and smiling nervously. “My name is Lulash.”
“I see,” said Mrs. Pollifax blankly. “Lulash. Well, how do you do, Mr. Lulash.”
He tiptoed back to the door, listened a moment and gently closed it. “The major has gone for the night. He sleeps.” He walked to the cot and stared down at Farrell. “I have worked in hospital,” he said suddenly. “I can set this man’s leg.
Zott
, but it looks bad.”
Mrs. Pollifax’s eyes weakly filled with tears at this offer of help. “He jumped from the cliff,” she explained in a strangled voice. “He was trying to kill himself.”
Lulash only nodded. “I wish him better good fortune the next time.” He leaned over to examine Farrell’s leg more closely. “
Zott
, but this is not good.”
“But you can do something?”
“Something, yes. Better a doctor, but they will not bring a doctor.
Mrs. Pollifax said coldly, “I have asked for water and bandages and no one brings them. If I may be so presumptuous as to make a suggestion, General, why don’t you shoot Mr. Farrell? It would be much more efficient because he is making a great deal of bothersome noise and what’s worse he is bleeding all over your furniture.”
General Perdido turned on her angrily. “I find you insolent, Mrs. Pollifax.”
“I
feel
insolent,” retorted Mrs. Pollifax. “Perhaps you would like to shoot me as well.”
For a moment she thought that General Perdido was going to strike her. She almost hoped that he would for her rage was nearly uncontainable and she would have welcomed violence, even if directed at herself. But his hand fell. He glared again at the moaning Farrell and turned on his heel. At the door he said to Major Vassovic, “Give the woman the water and bandages she asks for. Perhaps she can revive the prisoner for questioning.” He turned and gave Mrs. Pollifax a tight, sadistic smile. “For questioning and other things.” With this he marched out.
Major Vassovic looked doubtfully at Mrs. Pollifax. “Water? Bandages? You are a nurse?”
“No, a human being,” she snapped, and sat down again beside Farrell’s cot.
The major returned with strips of cloth and a pitcher of water. He stood and watched while Mrs. Pollifax moistened Farrell’s lips and untied the tourniquet. “You have been loosening it?” he asked.
She nodded. The bleeding had stopped; Mrs. Pollifax placed the blanket to one side and walked over to her cot and rolled back the mattress. The cot was made of wood, with rough slats to support the thin hard mattress. She removed two of the slats and carried them back to Farrell’s bed.
“What do you do now?” asked Major Vassovic curiously.
“I intend to set his leg.”
Major Vassovic looked astonished. “
Zott!
You know how?”
“No,” replied Mrs. Pollifax, “but someone has to. I’m hoping you will help me.”
He said stiffly, “I have no orders.”
“But you are here, and you are a man and he is a man, and do you think any leg should look like that?”
“I have no orders,” he repeated, and went out.
Mrs. Pollifax felt suddenly very tired. She looked at Farrell and she looked at his leg and she knew that she would bungle the job alone. Gritting her teeth she leaned over him and began ripping away his trouser leg. “I will not faint,” she told herself, “I will not, I will not. Surely I can push one of those bones back myself. It certainly ought to be done now, while he’s unconscious.” She stood back and looked at the leg, alreadyswollen and red and turning black and blue, and she thought forlornly, “I wish I had another aspirin.”
The door behind her opened so quietly that Mrs. Pollifax started when a low voice said, “Lulash.”
She turned. One of the guards stood there, his finger to his lips, nodding and smiling nervously. “My name is Lulash.”
“I see,” said Mrs. Pollifax blankly. “Lulash. Well, how do you do, Mr. Lulash.”
He tiptoed back to the door, listened a moment and gently closed it. “The major has gone for the night. He sleeps.” He walked to the cot and stared down at Farrell. “I have worked in hospital,” he said suddenly. “I can set this man’s leg.
Zott
, but it looks bad.”
Mrs. Pollifax’s eyes weakly filled with tears at this offer of help. “He jumped from the cliff,” she explained in a strangled voice. “He was trying to kill himself.”
Lulash only nodded. “I wish him better good fortune the next time.” He leaned over to examine Farrell’s leg more closely. “
Zott
, but this is not good.”
“But you can do something?”
“Something, yes. Better a doctor, but they will not bring a doctor.
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