The Finishing Stroke Read Free Page A

again.
    He had no thoughts that made sense. He saw everything through a blur – the droopy rubber plant, the bearded chromo over the mantelpiece, the ball-fringed runner on the upright piano, the stereoscope with its box of views on the table, the green rope portieres masking the dingy hall. Once he got out of the Morris chair to straighten the Gibson girl, who had become intolerable. There were other prints on the walls, Frederic Remington reproductions, orange-coloured violent scenes of the old West. But a moment after he turned away he could not have said what they depicted.
    And then, like an apparition, there was Dr. Hall again. He had come in with noiseless little steps, sipping hurriedly from a cup of tea and eyeing Sebastian over the rim as he came. Long red smears stained his smock, as if he had had to wipe his hands on it in haste.
    The husband stared at the stains, fascinated.
    â€˜You have a son, sir. The time was one-o-nine a.m. My congratulations.’
    â€˜ A.M., ’ Sebastian said in a loud voice. ‘Which day is this?’
    â€˜You can put it down as Friday, January the sixth, since it’s past midnight.’ Dr. Hall sounded hearty, but his tired brown eyes remained alert. ‘He’s a small one, Mr. Sebastian. I judge about four pounds.’
    â€˜Where are we?’ the publisher muttered. ‘Where is this house?’
    â€˜On the outskirts of Mount Kidron, not far from the Pelham Manor line. Four pounds isn’t bad for a premature baby, and he’s sound as a dollar. Mr. Sebastian, as soon as this is over I really should examine you.’
    â€˜Mount Kidron,’ Sebastian tore his glance from the bloody smock. ‘And my wife?’
    Dr. Hall said rapidly, ‘Under the circumstances, I must be frank. Your wife’s condition is critical. In fact … Well, sir, I’ll do all I can.’
    â€˜Yes,’ Sebastian said. ‘Dear God, yes.’
    â€˜You ought to know, too, sir – she’s going to have another child.’
    The big man said hoarsely, ‘What? What did you say?’
    â€˜You see, the first delivery weakened her to the danger point. A second …’ The little doctor’s red hair seemed to be flying off in all directions. But he was only shaking his head. ‘Now you’d better relax while I see to my patient. Here, drink the rest of this tea.’
    â€˜But it will kill her!’ Sebastian was on his feet, pulling at his collar, eyes distended in an enormous glare.
    â€˜Let us hope not, Mr. Sebastian.’
    â€˜Take him from her! Let him die. Just save her life!’
    â€˜In your wife’s condition, surgery would be almost certainly fatal. Besides, the child is coming naturally.’
    â€˜I want to see my wife!’
    Dr. Hall looked at John Sebastian with his sad brown eyes.
    â€˜Mr. Sebastian,’ he said clearly, ‘she doesn’t want to see you.’
    And he was gone again.
    Sebastian sagged into the Morris chair, clawing for some handhold to his old masterful self. He was unconscious of the hot tea slopping onto his thigh from the cup the doctor had placed in his hand.
    A twin …
    Damn him.
    â€˜She doesn’t want to see you.’
    Damn him , damn him!
    The cup slipped from Sebastian’s grasp, shattering on the hearth and sending a long splash into the fire, which hissed with hate.
    But he heard only the reproachful echo of his folly, and the guilt-ridden man sat cracking his knuckles in an agony of despair.
    Sebastian raised his head. ‘Well?’ he said harshly.
    Mrs. Hall remained by the closed door. She was wrapped in her own sexless plainness, her thin lips all but invisible. The hand on the blue china knob was so tense it looked bleached, like an old bone.
    Dr. Hall approached the seated man slowly. He had removed his smock; his shirtsleeves were folded back above the elbow. The freckled hands were puckered white, as if he had washed over and over