He was used to such calls, and it rarely took more than one ring to rouse him. “What’s happened now?” he asked with a faint air of boredom. “This is Kellie.” The identification was unnecessary; Keynes recognized the voice of Kellie McAleer, the night nurse on the psychiatric ward at Maudsley. “It’s Eddington, the transfer from Crown Security. He’s attempted suicide again. You left orders to call.” “How inconsiderate of me. Very well. I’ll be in.” Keynes hung up, turned on the light, and yanked back the covers. When the girl still did not stir, he gave her shoulder a shake. She lifted her head at last and looked at him with unfocusing eyes. “Out,” he said curtly. “I’m going in to the hospital.” “I cou’ stay and have somethin’ waitin’ when you come back,” she said in her thick Dorsetshire accent, and smiled at him hopefully. “Out,” he repeated, plucking her dress from the floor and tossing it to her before making for the bath. McAleer met him by the nurses’ station in the center of the circular ward and walked with him to his office.
