The Summer of Sir Lancelot

Lancelot reflected. ‘The enormous disadvantage of being a consultant is that nobody tells you you‘re wrong. Except the pathologist.‘ He took another sip. ‘You love my niece Euphemia?‘
    ‘Very much, sir.‘
    ‘H‘m. Well, Tolly, you may see her if you wish. Whether the romance blossoms again is, of course, no concern of mine.‘
    ‘That‘s awfully good of you.‘ Tim jumped up. ‘I‘ll go up to London straight away, if that‘s all right with you.‘
    ‘That is not all right with me. Someone must look after the practice while I am incapacitated. You have three days‘ leave, I understand?‘
    ‘Yes, I — er, had permission to visit the library of the London Psychological Society.‘
    ‘I‘m afraid you are going to find it extremely expensive, young man, courting Euphemia with the assistance of British Railways.‘
    ‘As a matter of fact,‘ Tim explained with a faint smile, ‘the trip‘s being subsidized by a mutual friend — Charles Chadwick.‘
    Sir Lancelot‘s mood was so suppressed he could manage only a muffled snort.
    ‘He seems rather to have taken to me since I cured his gout,‘ Tim went on. ‘He won‘t see another doctor, but keeps sending for me. The old chap‘s got a bit of dyspepsia, which I think is due to business worries.‘
    ‘After all, I suppose marmalade is his bread and butter,‘ Sir Lancelot conceded.
    Tim gave another smile. ‘He gets quite lyrical about marmalade sometimes. Apparently his ancestor the original Beaulieu was a Palace footman, who hit on the magic formula when the royal marmalade boiled over as he was kissing George the Fourth‘s cook. Charlie Chadwick insists he married her afterwards - he wouldn‘t like anything in the slightest unrespectable about the firm. He‘s terribly upset because one of the big drug companies is trying to take him over.‘
    ‘I don‘t think I am very interested in the financial embarrassments of Chadwick,‘ announced Sir Lancelot wearily. ‘You will meet my niece tomorrow, as I wish you to chauffeur me to St Swithin‘s. This is no passing spasm, and I fear that I can shirk no longer having myself warded there under the Professor. He may be the biggest wart on the body surgical, but he knows more about the nervous system than I do.‘ Sir Lancelot took another sip. ‘By the way, Tolly, did you happen to notice if Ganymede won the Goodwood Stakes this afternoon?‘
    ‘Unplaced, I‘m afraid, sir.‘
    Sir Lancelot gave a sigh. ‘Indeed, I seem to be having a very bad day of it altogether.‘
     

13
     
    August started hot.
    Bank Holiday trippers collapsed by the hundred, the yachts at Cowes lay gasping for a breath of air, and they were hosing down the elephants in the Zoo. The windows of St Swithin‘s Hospital stretched imploringly for a passing breeze, and Sir Lancelot lay in his private room on the ground floor covered only by a sheet. It was ten days after his disastrous maternity case, and he had just finished his lunch.
    The lunch at St Swithin‘s was carefully designed by the hospital dietician to be nutritious yet easily digestible, though admittedly a shade uninteresting. Sir Lancelot had added one or two items of personal taste, such as a pot of pâté de foie gras, preserved aubergines, pineapple in kirsch, and a half of champagne. He was pouring some Bisquit Dubouche, into his tooth mug, and alter carefully stowing the bottle behind the barley water in his locker reached for his bedside telephone.
    ‘Main gate, please. Harry? Spratt here. Anything good for this afternoon at Newmarket? Midsummer Madness, eh?‘ Sir Lancelot grunted thoughtfully. ‘All right, ring Alf at Crutchford‘s and put a monkey on for me. My dear man, I am quite aware that five hundred pounds is a great deal of money, thank you,‘ he ended, putting down the instrument, i shall very likely have no further use for the stuff, anyway,‘ he added to himself, ‘with the Professor operating on me tomorrow. Come in!‘
    Crimes appeared.
    ‘Well, well, well!‘ announced the porter cheerfully. ‘Sorry to see you, Sir Lancelot, in such a plight.‘
    ‘I am not, Crimes, in any plight,‘ returned Sir Lancelot severely. ‘I am extremely thankful that I may shortly enjoy the benefits of modern surgery.‘
    ‘You have a very nice way of putting these things, if I may say so, sir,‘ observed Crimes, producing his matchstick.
    ‘If you are impertinent, Crimes, I shall simply report the matter to the Hospital