‘And...?’ He was suddenly understandably squeamish. ‘And the, umm, the other wound?’
Karys took her glasses off to rub her tired eyes. ‘He was a plumber,’ she said. ‘A Stanley knife is sharp, isn’t it?’
But the vision that appeared in front of her eyes was provoked not by Colin Wilson’s profession but by the suggestion of the person who had drawn together the edges of the wound. ‘Or a scalpel,’ she said in a voice not much more distinct than a whisper. ‘He could have used a scalpel. Like a...’ She suddenly found she couldn’t go on. She felt sickened by it all.
But the concept of a ‘surgeon’ had been born.
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