The Summer of Sir Lancelot

story of a young woman in love with her doctor, when the door opened.
    ‘I just looked in to see if you were absolutely comfortable, Lancelot,‘ announced Professor Hindehead smoothly from the threshold. ‘This time tomorrow it will be all over. I don‘t suppose for one moment we shall find anything in the slightest alarming, shall we, Paul?‘
    ‘I‘m quite certain we won‘t,‘ agreed Paul Ivors-Smith behind him. ‘Please come in.‘ Sir Lancelot tossed the magazine aside. ‘Come along now,‘ he added firmly. ‘Kindly sit down.‘ He indicated the foot of his bed. ‘I want a word with you, Dicky. And you, Paul,‘ he added, as the Registrar was slipping away. ‘The Unit has been doing some important work on a new steroid, I hear?‘
    The Professor nodded. ‘Yes, and it‘s been extremely interesting. Though Paul here earns most of the credit.‘
    ‘And I gather the results will shortly be apparent?‘
    The Professor gave his smooth smile. ‘The somewhat elephantine pregnancy is coming to an end, I‘m glad to say. Though I‘m afraid we can‘t let you view the baby yet - you know those rather tedious regulations about the Research Council publishing first.‘
    ‘The United Drug Company, of course, put up the money?‘
    Professor Hindehead shrugged his shoulders under his white coat. ‘I think that‘s an open secret.‘
    Sir Lancelot put his fingertips together. ‘You had some shares in United Drug, Dicky?‘
    ‘My dear Lancelot!‘ He laughed briefly. ‘You really can‘t ask me to remember such things. I have absolutely no head for business. Possibly I once had one or two.‘
    ‘You had more than one or two, and you sold them yesterday.‘
    ‘Really, Lancelot!‘ The Professor‘s smooth cheek went pink, i must say, prying into my private affairs is a bit thick.‘
    ‘You know the news that your steroid is in fact useless was leaked to the City?‘ Sir Lancelot persisted.
    ‘You can‘t expect me to keep such things as secret as the atom bomb.‘ The Professor for once looked ruffled. ‘Possibly one of the technicians or a houseman let the cat out of the bag. Our last resident was a pretty shifty piece of work. What on earth are you making so much fuss for?‘ he complained, if a few people in the City have lost some money, they can well afford it. It‘s not a matter of importance to the hospital.‘
    Sir Lancelot tugged his beard. ‘On the contrary, it is a matter of the utmost importance to the hospital. I have information that a complete copy of your typewritten report was in the office of Ivors-Smith, Hardcastle, and Potter in Moorgate by last night.‘
    Paul looked up.
    ‘I can explain that quite easily—‘
    ‘I can save you the bother,‘ snapped Sir Lancelot. ‘You decided to line your pocket with the tatters of your professional honour.‘
    Paul bit his lip. ‘Well, I — I admittedly had rather a lot of shares. My... my wife didn‘t see why we should lose the money.‘
    ‘This is all rather inconsequential, Lancelot.‘ The Professor rose to go. ‘You are making a mountain out of a molehill.‘
    ‘Out ot a dunghill,‘ Sir Lancelot corrected him. ‘The respect we receive in our profession must be nourished with our own self-discipline. We must labour under a stricter ethical code than the public at large. Anyone breaking it lets down not only his colleagues but his forebears who painfully built up the status of the modern doctor. Such a person, to my mind, is not fit to be a member of the profession.‘
    ‘Oh come,‘ objected the Professor, edging towards the door. ‘You‘re quite out of proportion, Lancelot. A doctor‘s entitled to be a human being. We‘re not a collection of saints.‘
    ‘I agree. I will qualify my remark. Such a person is not fit to be on the consultant staff of a distinguished hospital.‘
    ‘Uncle Lancelot!‘ cried Euphemia from the window. ‘Help!‘
    ‘Great Scott!‘ Sir Lancelot leapt out of bed and caught her. ‘What on earth‘s the matter, girl?‘
    ‘Quick!‘ The Professor pushed Paul into the corridor. ‘Let‘s get out of this.‘
    ‘Have you been in an accident?‘ Sir Lancelot demanded anxiously.
    ‘I - I‘ve had a terrible experience, Uncle.‘ She buried her tousled head in his pyjamas and burst into tears. ‘It was awful!‘ He produced the yellow silk handkerchief. ‘That dreadful man!‘
    ‘The white-car feller?‘
    Euphemia nodded tearfully. ‘The damage is quite irreparable.‘
    ‘What!‘
    ‘To my