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judged him with just the same appraising stare as the doorkeeper at a shady nightclub. She said, ‘You can come in.’ He followed her into a waiting-room: the same bare globe, a chair, a round oak table splashed with dark paint. She shut him in and he heard her voice start in the next room. It went on and on. He picked up the only magazine,
Good Housekeeping
of eighteen months back , and began mechanically to read: ‘Bare walls are very popular today, perhaps one picture to give the necessary point of colour …’
    The nurse opened the door and jerked her hand. ‘He’ll see you.’ Dr Yogel was washing his hands in a fixed basin behind his long yellow desk and swivel chair. There was no other furniture in the room except a kitchen chair, a cabinet and a long couch. His hair was jet-black ; it looked as if it had been dyed, and there was not much of it; it was plastered in thin strands across the scalp. When he turned he showed a plump hard bonhomous face, a thick sensual mouth. He said, ‘And what can we do for you?’ You felt he was more accustomed to deal with women than with men. The nurse stood harshly behind waiting.
    Raven lowered his handkerchief. He said, ‘Can you do anything about this lip quickly?’
    Dr Yogel came up and prodded it with a little fat forefinger. ‘I’m not a surgeon.’
    Raven said, ‘I can pay.’
    Dr Yogel said, ‘It’s a job for a surgeon. It’s not in my line at all.’
    ‘I know that,’ Raven said, and caught the quick flicker of glances between the nurse and Dr Yogel. Dr Yogel lifted up the lip on each side; his fingernails were not quite clean. He watched Raven carefully and said, ‘If you come back tomorrow at ten …’ His breath smelt faintly of brandy.
    ‘No,’ Raven said. ‘I want it done now at once.’
    ‘Ten pounds,’ Dr Yogel said quickly.
    ‘All right.’
    ‘In cash.’
    ‘I’ve got it with me.’
    Dr Yogel sat down at his desk. ‘And now if you’ll give me your name …’
    ‘You don’t need to know my name.’
    Dr Yogel said gently: ‘Any name …’
    ‘Chumley, then.’
    ‘ CHOLMO …’
    ‘No. Spell it CHUMLEY .’
    Dr Yogel filled up a slip of paper and handed it to the nurse. She went outside and closed the door behind her. Dr Yogel went to the cabinet and brought out a tray of knives. Raven said, ‘The light’s bad.’
    ‘I’m used to it,’ Dr Yogel said. ‘I’ve a good eye.’ But as he held up a knife to the light his hand very slightly trembled. He said softly, ‘Lie down on the couch, old man.’
    Raven lay down. He said, ‘I knew a girl who came to you. Name of Page. She said you did her trick fine.’
    Dr Yogel said, ‘She oughtn’t to talk about it.’
    ‘Oh,’ Raven said, ‘you are safe with me. I don’t go back on a fellow who treats me right.’ Dr Yogel took a case like a portable gramophone out of his cabinet and carried it over to the couch. He produced a long tube and a mask. He smiled gently and said, ‘We don’t run to anaesthetists here, old man.’
    ‘Stop,’ Raven said, ‘you’re not going to give me gas.’
    ‘It would hurt without it, old man,’ Dr Yogel said, approaching with the mask, ‘it would hurt like hell.’
    Raven sat up and pushed the mask aside. ‘I won’t have it,’ he said, ‘not gas. I’ve never had gas. I’ve never passed out yet. I like to see what’s going on.’
    Dr Yogel laughed gently and pulled at Raven’s lip in a playful way. ‘Better get used to it, old man. We’ll all be gassed in a day or two.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘Well, it looks like war, doesn’t it?’ Dr Yogel said, talking rapidly and unwinding more tube, turning screws in a soft, shaking, inexorable way. ‘The Serbs can’t shoot a Minister of War like that and get away with it. Italy’s ready to come in. And the French are warming up. We’ll be in it ourselves inside a week.’
    Raven said, ‘All that because an old man …’ He explained, ‘I haven’t read the papers.’
    ‘I wish