The big policeman filled the doorway. “We’re hoping you have some empty beds, Doctor.”
“Who have you brought us?”
“Four men, two women, and a little lad. The worst of the injured went to St. Barts and the London Hospital. Doctor Franklin is hoping you can take these patients unless—”
“We’ll manage.”
“He’d be sending Doctor Barnes to you, but the London is swamped. And they’ll be needing the young doctor there tomorrow, so he’ll be missing his usual Saturday.”
“No matter. I’ll be here.”
Constables carried in bloodied victims on stretchers, starting with the women and the child.
“Take them to the women’s ward,” Julia said. “Jackie?” She looked around for Jackie Archer, the clinic’s young orderly. “Bring up cots from the storeroom. Put one in the women’s ward for the boy and another four in the fever room.”
O’Malley waved over a copper who turned away from a stretcher, looking white in the face. “Help the lad with the beds.”
Kate touched Julia’s arm. “What can I do?”
“Will you take the carriage home and tell my grandfather I need his help?”
“Mister Ogilvie can do that. I’ll send him along with your message.”
“All right, Kate. We’ll need bedding for seven extra beds. Use the cart by the door. Nurse Emily will show you what to do.”
Julia bent over the young boy’s stretcher. The child stared up at Julia as she cut away his bloody shirt. She was relieved to see the boy’s wounds were largely superficial, with one deeper gash producing most of the blood.
She smiled at him. “What’s your name?”
“Willie, miss,” he whispered. “Willie Abbott.” He tried to raise his head. “My little sister, Minnie …”
“Minnie isn’t here, Willie, but we’ll try to find out where she is. You lie back now. We’ll move you to a bed, and Nurse Emily will look after you.”
“Careful now, lads,” O’Malley said to the stretcher-bearers as they shifted the boy to the cot.
Julia asked him, “Why are children among the injured? I thought this was a prison explosion.”
“A barrel of gunpowder blew a fifty-foot hole in the Clerkenwell Prison wall, destroying the house opposite and damaging others on Corporation Row.”
“Good God. Do we know who was responsible?”
“Not yet,” O’Malley said grimly. “I’m hearing the Irish brotherhood was behind it. But I’m praying it isn’t so.”
Amen to that,Julia thought, moving to a female patient’s bedside.
Kate caught the doctor by her elbow. “What can I do after the beds?”
Julia looked around the waiting room, where anxious familymembers had started to arrive. “Can you greet the visitors as they come in? Take their names, seat them, and try to calm them with cups of tea.”
An hour later, Julia emerged from the women’s ward and greeted her grandfather in the hallway. “Thank goodness,” she said, and brushed his cheek with a kiss. “Can you assist Clemmie in the fever room? We put the men in there.”
“Of course.” He stopped at the door and looked at his granddaughter. “I passed a newsstand and saw an early headline. It said, ‘Fenian Outrage at Clerkenwell Prison,’ although it’s soon to be certain who is behind it.”
She thought,Just what this neighborhood doesn’t need.
Julia jumped when the front door’s handle cracked against the wall. A man entered, dressed in gaiters, heavy hob-nailed boots, and a soot-smeared canvas smock. He dragged off his dustman’s cap and looked around wildly.
Kate approached him. “Begging your pardon, sir. Can you tell me your name and who you’re seeking?”
