Seven AN ESCAPE FROM DEATH
Driving her large green Bentley, Frankie drew up to the kerb outside alarge old-fashioned house over the doorway¹ of which was inscribed² “St.
Asaph’s.”
Frankie jumped out and, turning, extracted a large bunch of lilies. Thenshe rang the bell. A woman in nurse’s dress answered the door.
“Can I see Mr. Jones?” inquired Frankie.
The nurse’s eyes took in the Bentley, the lilies and Frankie with intenseinterest.
“What name shall I say?”
“Lady Frances Derwent.”
The nurse was thrilled and her patient went up in her estimation.
She guided Frankie upstairs into a room on the first floor.
“You’ve a visitor to see you, Mr. Jones. Now, who do you think it is? Sucha nice surprise for you.”
All this is the “bright” manner usual to nursing homes.
“Gosh!” said Bobby, very much surprised. “If it isn’t Frankie!”
“Hullo, Bobby, I’ve brought the usual flowers. Rather a graveyard³ sug-gestion about them, but the choice was limited.”
“Oh, Lady Frances,” said the nurse, “they’re lovely. I’ll put them into wa-ter.”
She left the room.
Frankie sat down in an obvious visitor’s chair.
“Well, Bobby,” she said. “What’s all this?”
“You may well ask,” said Bobby. “I’m the complete sensation of thisplace. Eight grains of morphia, no less. They’re going to write about me inthe Lancet and the BMJ.”
“What’s the BMJ?” interrupted Frankie.
“The British Medical Journal.”
“All right. Go ahead. Rattle⁵ off some more initials.”
“Do you know, my girl, that half a grain is a fatal dose? I ought to bedead about sixteen times over. It’s true that recovery has been knownafter sixteen grains—still, eight is pretty good, don’t you think? I’m thehero of this place. They’ve never had a case like me before.”
“How nice for them.”
“Isn’t it? Gives them something to talk about to all the other patients.”
The nurse reentered, bearing lilies in vases.
“It’s true, isn’t it, nurse?” demanded Bobby. “You’ve never had a caselike mine?”

分享到：