He had saved his friend's life by a most skilful operation, but he
had been shocked beyond control when, an hour after the operation was
over, and consciousness returned to the patient in the brilliantly
lighted room, Ingolby said:
"Why don't you turn on the light?"
It was thus Rockwell knew that the Master Man, the friend of Lebanon and
Manitou, was stone blind. When Ingolby's voice ceased, a horrified
silence filled the room for a moment. Even Jim Beadle, his servant,
standing at the foot of the bed, clapped a hand to his mouth to stop a
cry, and the nurse turned as white as the apron she wore.
Dumbfounded as Rockwell was, with instant professional presence of mind
he said:
"No, Ingolby, you must be kept in darkness a while yet." Then he whipped
out a silk handkerchief from his pocket. "We will have light," he
continued, "but we must bandage you first to keep out the glare and
prevent pain. The nerves of the eyes have been injured."
Hastily and tenderly he bound the handkerchief round the sightless eyes.
Having done so, he said to the nurse with unintentional quotation from
the Gospel of St. John, and a sad irony: "Let there be light.
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