"I understand," repeated the assistant.

Then, holding his hand,--closely, but not so as to constrain the
muscles,--Lefevre put his own left on the machine according to the
direction he had given his assistant,--with his fingers, that is,
dipping into the chemicals from plates in the bottom of which the wires
conducted to the patient's hands. A shiver ran through the frame of both
Lefevre and his companion, a convulsive shudder passed upon the
unconscious body, and--a strange cry rang out upon the silence of the
ward, and Lefevre withdrew his hands. He and the house-physician looked
at each other pale and shaken. The nurse came running at the cry.
Lefevre looked out beyond the screen to reassure her, and saw in the dim
red reflection of the firelight a sight which struck him gruesomely,
used though he was to hospital sights; all about the ward pale scared
figures were sitting up in bed, like corpses suddenly raised from the
dead. He bent over his patient, who presently opened his eyes and stared
at him.

"Get some brandy and milk," said Lefevre to his companion.

"Who? Where am I?" murmured the patient in a faint voice.

"I am Dr Lefevre, and this is St. James's Hospital."

"Doctor?--hospital?--oh, I'm dreaming!" murmured the patient.

"We'll talk about that when you have taken some of this," said Lefevre,
as the house-physician reappeared with the nurse, bearing the brandy and
milk.