I was four weeks in the Adelaide Hospital, but of the first days I remember very little. The earliest memory that I have is of waking up and thinking I was in a church. It was night and my eyes opened to the dimness of great high walls. It was almost still, but there was the far-away whispering, as of people at their prayers. I was in great pain and I could hear that I groaned.

Immediately a white-clad figure glided up, and something icy cold went on my head. Then I felt the prick of a needle and the shadows deepened and everything faded quickly away.

Then I was in a great deep pit fighting with a lot of devils; I thought I was being killed, but a grave-eyed man jumped down into the pit and threw me up over the side. I seemed to have a lot to do with that man in those days. He was cold and stern to look at, but when he touched me — his touch was the touch of a lover. He seemed always to be my master, deciding whether he should give me life or death.

Then one day — oh day, glorious to remember! — I awakened to spring and sunshine and the smell of beautiful flowers. I was getting better.

The great surgeon who had operated on me — I learnt afterwards I had fractured my skull in falling from the wall — came and sat by my bed and talked very kindly to me. He told me I was going to get quite well and strong again. I had had a very near shave, he said, but there was no reason now why I should not be as well again as I had ever been in my life. He told me I had been a very good patient and he smiled on me like a judge who had forgiven me my sins.

Directly I was well enough a lot of people came to see me. First there was the Chief Commissioner of the Police. He gave me all the news. He smiled whimsically and, in mock relief, informed me the special constables had all been disbanded, and he hoped he might never see them again. He was very nice and friendly and told me he would sure be coming to my wedding.

Oh, yes — all the world knew I was going to be married, and there would be no church or chapel large enough in Adelaide to hold all who wanted to come. Then he grinned broadly and asked me if I would like to have Meadows for my best man. When I declined laughingly, he got up to go with the final promise that if I couldn’t get anyone else — he’d be best man himself.

Then there was Sir Bartle Elkin. He was kind and chatty.

“You know, Mr. Wacks,” he said. “I don’t suppose I shall ever strike a more interesting study than yourself. All along you have interested me, and right up to the very last, you have given me things to think about and problems to solve. The hallucinations of your delirium, for instance, were most peculiar.

“If you remember, the last image to strike upon your retina before you became unconscious was that of the man you shot. Probably at the moment of his falling you would have noted the immediate effect of your bullet on his chest. Well, all the time you were delirious that last impression of yours was uppermost in your mind to the exclusion of everything else. The color seemed absolutely to obsess you.

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