The night watchman was in the hall. He was fond of Sidney; she always smiled at him; and, on his morning rounds at six o'clock to waken the nurses, her voice was always amiable. So she found him in the hall, holding a cup of tepid coffee. He was old and bleary, unmistakably dirty too--but he had divined Sidney's romance. “Coffee! For me?” She was astonished. “Drink it. You haven't had much sleep.” She took it obediently, but over the cup her eyes searched his. “There is something wrong, daddy.” That was his name, among the nurses. He had had another name, but it was lost in the mists of years. “Get it down.” So she finished it, not without anxiety that she might be needed. But daddy's attentions were for few, and not to be lightly received. “Can you stand a piece of bad news?” Strangely, her first thought was of K. “There has been an accident. Dr. Wilson--” “Which one?” “Dr. Max--has been hurt. It ain't much, but I guess you'd like to know it.” “Where is he?” “Downstairs, in Seventeen.” So she went down alone to the room where Dr. Ed sat in a chair, with his untidy bag beside him on the floor, and his eyes fixed on a straight figure on the bed. When he saw Sidney, he got up and put his arms around her. His eyes told her the truth before he told her anything. She hardly listened to what he said. The fact was all that concerned her--that her lover was dying there, so near that she could touch him with her hand, so far away that no voice, no caress of hers, could reach him. The why would come later. Now she could only stand, with Dr. Ed's arms about her, and wait. “If they would only do something!” Sidney's voice sounded strange to her ears. “There is nothing to do.” But that, it seemed, was wrong. For suddenly Sidney's small world, which had always sedately revolved in one direction, began to move the other way. The door opened, and the staff came in. But where before they had moved heavily, with drooped heads, now they came quickly, as men with a purpose. There was a tall man in a white coat with them. He ordered them about like children, and they hastened to do his will. At first Sidney only knew that now, at last, they were going to do something--the tall man was going to do something. He stood with his back to Sidney, and gave orders. The heaviness of inactivity lifted. The room buzzed. The nurses stood by, while the staff did nurses' work. The senior surgical interne, essaying assistance, was shoved aside by the senior surgical consultant, and stood by, aggrieved. It was the Lamb, after all, who brought the news to Sidney. The new activity had caught Dr. Ed, and she was alone now, her face buried against the back of a chair. “There'll be something doing now, Miss Page,” he offered. “What are they going to do?” “Going after the bullet. Do you know who's going to do it?” His voice echoed the subdued excitement of the room--excitement and new hope.