Now Alec Carmichael was on the staff of half a dozen hospitals.
I should think he earned ten thousand a year, and his
knighthood was but the first of the honours which must
inevitably fall to his lot.
"I've done pretty well," he said, "but the strange thing is
that I owe it all to one piece of luck."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well, do you remember Abraham? He was the man who had the future.
When we were students he beat me all along the line.
He got the prizes and the scholarships that I went in for.
I always played second fiddle to him. If he'd kept on he'd be
in the position I'm in now. That man had a genius for surgery.
No one had a look in with him. When he was
appointed Registrar at Thomas's I hadn't a chance of getting
on the staff. I should have had to become a G.P., and you
know what likelihood there is for a G.P. ever to get out of
the common rut. But Abraham fell out, and I got the job.
That gave me my opportunity."
"I dare say that's true."
"It was just luck. I suppose there was some kink in Abraham.
Poor devil, he's gone to the dogs altogether. He's got some
twopenny-halfpenny job in the medical at Alexandria --
sanitary officer or something like that.
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