Surgeon At Arms
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Surgeon at Arms continues the story of the much-admired surgeon, Graham Trevose, who first appeared in The Facemaker. As the Second World War breaks out and begins to yield its countless casualties, Trevose uses his skills as a plastic surgeon to rebuild burned faces and damaged limbs. For this, his grateful patients name him ‘The Wizard’ and he is hailed a hero. Yet Trevose’s rather unorthodox private life begins to make him enemies which prove as much a challenge as his work in the military hospitals. In the rise and fall of this bold, talented yet fallible surgeon, Richard Gordon presents the achievements and disappointments of the entire nation.
wall. A lieutenant with twined-serpent R.A.M.C. badges, who hovered in attendance, was gently waved from the presence. Haileybury extended his large red hand. ‘An unexpected pleasure, Trevose.’ ‘Is it so unexpected?’ The brigadier pursed his lips. ‘Won’t you sit down?’ Graham took a small hard chair and began, ‘Haileybury, do you know the one thing the powers-that-be in this war could do with me? They couldn’t court-martial me. They couldn’t put me in jail. They couldn’t even tell me off. The
recommending itself for Lord Cazalay’s retirement through its lack of an extradition treaty with Great Britain. As Maria’s remains were lowered from sight another flying-bomb came out of the distance. As the engine stopped, heads turned heavenwards in anxiety rather than supplication. It exploded with a distant thump. Graham wondered idly who was unfortunate enough to be underneath it ‘Mr Trevose, you must remember me,’ said an old lady in a velvet hat, voice conscientiously hushed. ‘Of course
might have given conventional treatment a chance first.’ ‘But I did.’ Alec finished his gin and poured himself another. Desmond began to feel worried. His cousin had become dreadfully unreliable socially, and it would never do upsetting the dignity of the dons’ dining table. ‘I was skin-tested, and they told me I was allergic to grasses—crested dog’s-tail, sheep’s fescue, bird’s foot trefoil. Whoever could imagine things with such lovely names doing anyone the slightest harm. It’s ridiculous.’
you now that I treated Clare quite disgustingly, it’s something which I have only just come to admit to myself.’ ‘Quite so,’ said John. It suddenly struck him how much Graham was starting to sound like Haileybury. It was fortunate for the reputation of Sister Mills at the Kenworth Hospital that she had charge of a children’s ward. Unlike the adult patients, who had little to do except listen to Workers’ Playtime through the headphones and intensely observe the personal behaviour of the staff,
They would have heard enough of him during the war, he supposed. Or perhaps, he reflected wryly, they were aware of his having married the daughter of the first Lord Cazalay, and his kinship to the rogue at the seat of their present troubles. Graham was coming to detach himself from the man in Brixton prison with more assurance every day. He decided his brother-in-law had enough on his hands without dragging him into the mess—though with a man like that you never could tell. But if anything about