Fear no hope. We shall bring him home as soon as
possible.'
But an hour later arrived another--from the Squire to Elizabeth.
'Have a bed got ready in the library. Desmond's wish. Also
accommodation near for surgeon and nurses. May be able to cross
to-morrow. Will wire.'
But it was nearly two days before the final message arrived--from
Pamela to her sister. 'Expect us 7.20 to-night.'
By that time the ground-floor of the west wing had been transformed
into a temporary ward with its adjuncts, under the direction of a
Fallerton doctor, who had brought Desmond into the world and pulled
him through his childish illnesses. Elizabeth had moved most of the
statues, transferred the Sargent sketch to the drawing-room, and put
all the small archaeological litter out of sight. But the Nike was
too big and heavy to be moved, and Elizabeth remembered that Desmond
had always admired 'the jolly old thing' with its eager outstretched
wings and splendid brow. Doctor Renshaw shook his head over the
library as a hospital ward, and ordered a vast amount of meticulous
cleaning and disinfection.
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