But by nightfall Amber seemed, if possible, to be even worse. A carbuncle had begun to swell in her right groin and though it grew larger it remained hard and gave no indication that it would suppurate. Sykes was anxious about that, for it was the worst possible sign, and not even the mustard plasters she applied—which blistered the skin—seemed to have any effect.
“What can we
Sykes was staring down at Amber. “Nothing, sir,” she said slowly. “Most usually they die.”
“We might cut into it,” she said. “If it’s still like this tomorrow. That’s what the doctors do. But the pain of the knife sometimes drives ’em mad—”
“Shut up! I don’t want to hear it! Go out and get her something to eat.”
He was almost exhausted and his temper was quick and savage, for he suffered agonizingly over his own impotence. It went through his mind over and over again. She’s sick because of me and now, when she needs me, I lie here like a sot and am able to do nothing!
Almost to his surprise, Amber lived through the night. But by morning her skin was beginning to take on a dusky colour, her breathing grew more shallow and her heart-beats fainter. Sykes told him that those things meant approaching death.
“Then we’ll cut the boil open!”
“But it might kill her!”
Sykes was afraid to do anything, for it seemed that no matter what she did the patient would die and she would lose the greatest fortune she had ever imagined.
He almost shouted at her. “Do as I say!” Then his voice dropped again, he spoke to her quietly but with a swift commanding urgency. “Over in the top drawer of that table there’s a razor—get it. Take the cord off the drapes and bind her knees and ankles together. Wrap the cord around the trundle so she can’t move, and tie her wrists to the corners. Get some towels and a basin. Hurry!”
Sykes scrambled nervously about the room, but within a couple of minutes she had followed his directions. Amber lay bound securely to the trundle and still completely unconscious.
Bruce was close to the edge of the bed. “Pray God she doesn’t know—” he muttered and then: “Now! Take the razor and cut into it—quick and hard! It’ll hurt less that way. Quick!” His right fist clenched and the veins in it swelled.
Sykes looked at him in horror, the razor held tight in her hand. “I can’t, your Lordship. I can’t.” Her teeth began to chatter. “I’m scared! What if she dies under it!”
Bruce was pouring sweat. He licked his tongue over his dry lips and gave a convulsive swallow. “You
Sykes continued to stare at him for a moment and then, as though hypnotized into obedience by the sheer force of his will, she bent and placed the edge of the razor against the hard red knob high up on Amber’s groin. At that moment Amber stirred and her head turned toward Bruce. Sykes gave a start.
“Cut it open!” said Bruce hoarsely, his clenched fist trembling with helpless rage. His face was dark with the rush of blood and the cords in his neck and temples were thick as ropes and throbbing.
With sudden resolution Sykes jammed the razor into the lump, but as she did so Amber moaned and the moan slid in crescendo to a quivering scream. Sykes let go of the razor and stepped back to stand staring at Amber who was struggling now to free herself, twisting frantically in an effort to escape the pain, shrieking again and again.
Bruce began to get out of bed. “Help me!”
Sykes came swiftly, put one arm around his back, the other beneath his elbow, and in an instant he had dropped on his knees beside the trundle and seized the razor.
“Hold her! Here! By the knees!”
Again Sykes did as she was told, though Amber continued to writhe, shrieking, her eyes rolling like a frenzied animal’s. With all the strength he had left Bruce forced the razor into the hard mass and twisted it to one side. As he pulled it out again the blood spurted, splattering onto his body, and Amber dropped back, unconscious. His head fell helplessly onto his fist; his own wound had opened once more and the bandage showed fresh and red.
Sykes was trying to help him get up. “Your Lordship! Ye must get back into bed! Your Lordship—please!”
She wrenched the razor from his hand and with her help he managed to crawl back onto the bed. She flung a blanket over him and turned immediately to Amber whose skin was now white and waxen. Her heart was beating, very faintly. Quantities of blood poured from the opening, but there was no pus and the poison was not draining.
