Free A Close Run Thing by Allan Mallinson

surrounded by death, as he had been these past six years, it was death at a distance which was finally to pierce him, only added to his grief.
    There was a knock at the door. ‘Not now, Johnson!’ he called. But it opened slowly, and there appeared, diffidently, the regiment’s veterinary officer.
    ‘Pardon my intruding so, Hervey, but I wished to have words concerning the chestnut in ‘C’ Troop.’ The voice was equally hesitant.
    Hervey would have wished for this at another time but he sensed he had little choice but to yield. ‘Well, yes , indeed, Selden. Come in, sit down,’ he said, indicating a sedile which Johnson had acquired during the day.
    ‘Hervey, the farrier-major has reported to me what transpired at evening stables.’ He began coughing badly, his face in a feverish sweat. Hervey gave him a cup of water.
    ‘You ought not to be out of your bed, Selden, for heaven’s sake!’
    ‘That I know; it’s a damned potent attack this time, but I had to speak with you about my diagnosis. You examined the eye, I’m told?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘I could barely see it, I confess. What did the pupil look like?’
    ‘Undiminished – a little dilated, if anything, I should say.’
    The veterinary officer sighed. ‘I should have got someone to look, but the eye was so far back in its socket …’
    Hervey nodded.
    ‘And I looked at my notebook and saw that the horse had had a previous attack of ophthalmia. If there is recurrence, then it signals progressive blindness, and there is no recourse but to the bullet – as you very well know. Thus I made the presumption of the specific condition. I have only seen two cases before, both in the Indies, but I do not understand how there could be a recurrence of the simple.’
    ‘I think you will find,’ said Hervey quietly, ‘that it was the other chestnut – J78 – that was the previous case. You have made the two as one.’
    The veterinary officer’s jaw fell. ‘Then, I must go at once and offer my papers to the major,’ he replied.
    ‘There is no need for that,’ insisted Hervey. ‘You were in no condition to be attending to them in the first instance. Here, take this brandy.’ And he poured a large measure from the bottle which Johnson had left by his bed. ‘None of us, I dare say, is in the best of sorts.’
    ‘But your judgement seems not to have been impaired by your own infirmity,’ said Selden, gesturing towards Hervey’s leg.
    ‘That is as may be, but I dare say I would not be so attentive now,’ he replied.
    ‘How so?’ asked Selden, at once puzzled but faintly encouraged by the reply.
    ‘Oh, it does not matter,’ said Hervey dismissively, realizing he had let on more than he intended.
    Selden had another fit of coughing, which required more brandy to subdue, and he mopped his brow with a large, ochreous silk square which matched almost exactly his feverish complexion. ‘Horse doctor that I may be, I am still able to recognize obvious symptoms of dispirits in humans.’
    Hervey sighed, but in truth he was glad to share his ill news, which Selden received attentively. ‘And your brother was, I would hazard, a fine sort of man, an active clergyman, no mere time-server,’ said the veterinary officer when Hervey had finished.
    ‘Of all the worthless creatures I have seen survive – no,
prosper
– these past six years, I cannot understand why a man so full of goodness as he should die.’
    ‘A cruel and troubling paradox,’ agreed Selden: ‘“The secret things belong unto the Lord our God: but those things which are revealed belong unto us.”’
    ‘Indeed, and John would quote Deuteronomy just so, but it all seems remote and …
conjectural
now.’
    ‘I find it ever to be so, frankly. I confess that I cannot put any faith in the claims of the Church. What will you do? Are there any family obligations which now befall you?’
    ‘I have just accepted a lieutenancy and I do not know if I am in any position to do so. I simply do not know