Free Doktor Glass by Thomas Brennan Page A

might call on me.”
    “That’s quite all right, Inspector.” Sister Wright had stood up as Langton entered the room, but she returned to her seat and set her gloves and purse on her lap. She wore a long skirt and matching coat of grey wool, and a simple hat in a darker grey. Somehow, the outfit seemed reminiscent of her uniform, as though she were not quite off-duty. “I knew you would be busy, but I hope you can spare me a few minutes.”
    “Of course. Are you not working today?”
    “My duties begin at seven this evening,” she said. “Although I usually go in a little early.”
    How early?
Langton thought. He could see no ring on her finger, and she reminded him of the nurses in the Transvaal field hospitals and convalescent units: women, some no more than girls, who focused on their work alone. Like nuns, they saw their duties as a calling morethan a vocation. Without their dedicated attention, many men would not have returned from the war. Langton was no exception.
    “How may I help you?” Langton sat behind his desk slowly, wincing at the pain in his abdomen.
    “Is something wrong?”
    “Nothing, just a slight accident while chasing a suspect,” Langton said. “Go on, please.”
    Sister Wright hesitated, then began, “Firstly, I must ask you not to mention my visit to the Professor. I realize I have no right to put you in this position, but the Professor hates the thought of people speaking behind his back, even if they have his best interests at heart.”
    Intrigued, Langton said, “You have my word: Whatever passes between us shall remain here.”
    Sister Wright’s face broke into a smile that made her seem ten years younger. “I knew I had not misjudged you, Inspector.”
    “So…”
    “So. I think the Professor might have given you the wrong impression last night, or rather this morning—hours lose their rhythm in the Infirmary. He has led a long and varied life, a life dedicated to relieving pain and helping people. I have worked with many doctors, but never have I met such a selfless surgeon as Professor Caldwell Chivers.”
    Langton gave no response as he wondered why she felt it necessary to defend the Professor.
    Sister Wright continued, “We fight every day to save lives and snatch people back from the very brink of death. Sometimes we do not succeed. I know that hurts the Professor; he’s not like those men who can inure themselves to death. You’ve met such men, haven’t you, Inspector? And not just in your work here.”
    Remembering the Transvaal, Langton nodded.
    Sister Wright leaned forward in her chair. “The Professor cares. Perhaps, sometimes, he cares too much. He lets himself becomedistracted by certain…ideas. Ideas that in daylight might seem grotesque or even dangerous.”
    “The Jar Boys?”
    Sister Wright looked at the floor. “I’m afraid so.”
    “I’ve heard of their existence from others,” Langton said. “It seems that many believe in them.”
    She smiled at him. “Many believe in fairies and other sprites and spirits. Why, even voodoo, that bizarre belief in the undead. I wonder sometimes if those beliefs stem from a need deep within a person, if perhaps they simply see what they wish to see.”
    Langton didn’t doubt her. In the Transvaal trenches and deserts, he had witnessed the transformation of levelheaded men into wrecks desperately grasping at anything that would relieve their daily suffering. They talked of ghosts, spirits, angels, the afterlife, Egyptology, religions and sects from around the world. They had that need.
    Did the Professor really live under so much strain? Strain and stress enough to drive him to the outer fringes of belief? Langton chose his words with care. “The Professor is obviously respectable, hardworking, sane.”
    “As sane as you or I,” Sister Wright said. “But he seeks so hard to help his patients that he sometimes loses his perspective.”
    “But you trust him.”
    Sister Wright stared at him. “With my