"Right," I said. "If you will nip down to the hospital bakery and get some dough, I'll take him into the surgery and seal his lids."
I led the Indian out of the Rest Room and down the long hospital corridor to the surgery. "Lie down there," I said, indicating the high bed. He lay down. I took a small bottle from the cupboard. It had an eyedropper in the top. "This is something called collodion," I told him. "It will harden over your closed eyelids so that it is impossible for you to open them."
"How do I get it off afterwards?" he asked me.
"Alcohol will dissolve it quite easily," I said. "It's perfectly harmless. Close your eyes now."
The Indian closed his eyes. I applied collodion over both lids. "Keep them closed," I said. "Wait for it to harden."
In a couple of minutes, the collodion had made a hard film over the eyelids, sticking them down tight. "Try to open them," I said.
He tried but couldn't.
Dr Marshall came in with a basin of dough. It was the ordinary white dough used for baking bread. It was nice and soft. I took a lump of the dough and plastered it over one of the Indian's eyes. I filled the whole socket and let the dough overlap on to the surrounding skin. Then I pressed the edges down hard. I did the same with the other eye.
"That isn't too uncomfortable, is it?" I asked.
"No," the Indian said. "It's fine."
"You do the bandaging," I said to Dr Marshall. "My fingers are too sticky."
"A pleasure," Dr Marshall said. "Watch this." He took a thick wad of cotton-wool and laid it on top of the Indian's dough-filled eyes. The cotton-wool stuck to the dough and stayed in place. "Sit up, please," Dr Marshall said.
The Indian sat up on the bed.
Dr Marshall took a roll of three-inch bandage and proceeded to wrap it round and round the man's head. The bandage held the cotton-wool and the dough firmly in place. Dr Marshall pinned the bandage. After that, he took a second bandage and began to wrap that one not only around the man's eyes but around his entire face and head.
"Please to leave my nose free for breathing," the Indian said.
"Of course," Dr Marshall answered. He finished the job and pinned down the end of the bandage. "How's that?" he asked.
"Splendid," I said. "There's no way he can possibly see through that."
The whole of the Indian's head was now swathed in thick white bandage, and the only thing you could see was the end of his nose sticking out. He looked like a man who had had some terrible brain operation.
"How does that feel?" Dr Marshall asked him.
"It feels good," the Indian said. "I must compliment you gentlemen on doing such a fine job."
"Off you go, then," Mr Marshall said, grinning at me. "Show us how clever you are at seeing things now!"
The Indian got off the bed and walked straight to the door. He opened the door and went out.
"Great Scott!" I said. "Did you see that? He put his hand right on to the doorknob!"
Dr Marshall had stopped grinning. His face had suddenly gone white. "I'm going after him," he said, rushing for the door. I rushed for the door as well.
The Indian was walking quite normally along the hospital corridor. Dr Marshall and I were about five yards behind him. And very spooky it was to watch this man with the enormous white and totally bandaged head strolling casually along the corridor just like anyon
e else. It was especially spooky when you knew for a certainty that his eyelids were sealed, that his eye-sockets were filled with dough, and that there was a great wad of cotton-wool and bandages on top of that.
I saw a native orderly coming along the corridor towards the Indian. He was pushing a food-trolley. Suddenly the orderly caught sight of the man with the white head, and he froze. The bandaged Indian stepped casually to one side of the trolley and went on.
"He saw it!" I cried. "He must have seen that trolley! He walked right round it! This is absolutely unbelievable!"
Dr Marshall didn't answer me. His cheeks were white, his whole face rigid with shocked disbelief.
The Indian came to the stairs and started to go down them.