Adventure and adventurers -- Fiction; Short stories
I want to wash my hands in your room.”
</p>
<p>
Lieut. D’Hubert found the surgeon occupied in unscrewing his flute, and
packing the pieces methodically in a case. He turned his head.
</p>
<p>
“Water there—in the corner. Your hands do want washing.”
</p>
<p>
“I’ve stopped the bleeding,” said Lieut. D’Hubert. “But you had better
make haste. It’s rather more than ten minutes ago, you know.”
</p>
<p>
The surgeon did not hurry his movements.
</p>
<p>
“What’s the matter? Dressing came off? That’s amusing. I’ve been at work
in the hospital all day but I’ve been told this morning by somebody that
he had come off without a scratch.”
</p>
<p>
“Not the same duel probably,” growled moodily Lieut. D’Hubert, wiping his
hands on a coarse towel.
</p>
<p>
“Not the same. . . . What? Another. It would take the very devil to make
me go out twice in one day.” The surgeon looked narrowly at Lieut.
D’Hubert. “How did you come by that scratched face? Both sides, too—and
symmetrical. It’s amusing.”
</p>
<p>
“Very!” snarled Lieut. D’Hubert. “And you will find his slashed arm
amusing, too. It will keep both of you amused for quite a long time.”
</p>
<p>
The doctor was mystified and impressed by the brusque bitterness of Lieut.
D’Hubert’s tone. They left the house together, and in the street he was
still more mystified by his conduct.
</p>
<p>
“Aren’t you coming with me?” he asked.
</p>
<p>
“No,” said Lieut. D’Hubert. “You can find the house by yourself. The front
door will be standing open very likely.”
</p>
<p>
“All right. Where’s his room?”
</p>
<p>
“Ground floor. But you had better go right through and look in the garden
first.”
</p>
<p>
This astonishing piece of information made the surgeon go off without
further parley. Lieut. D’Hubert regained his quarters nursing a hot and
uneasy indignation. He dreaded the chaff of his comrades almost as much as
the anger of his superiors. The truth was confoundedly grotesque and
embarrassing, even putting aside the irregularity of the combat itself,
which made it come abominably near a criminal offence. Like all men
without much imagination, a faculty which helps the process of reflective
thought, Lieut. D’Hubert became frightfully harassed by the obvious
aspects of his predicament. He was certainly glad that he had not killed
Lieut. Feraud outside all rules, and without the regular witnesses proper
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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