Stott gave a laugh that was more nearly a snarl. "Ain't the first time
I've 'ad a cut finger," he said scornfully.

He had the finger bound up when I saw him again, but it had been done by
an amateur. I learnt afterwards that no antiseptic had been used. That
was at lunch time, and Notts had made a hundred and sixty-eight for one
wicket; Mallinson was not out, a hundred and three. I saw that the Notts
Eleven were in magnificent spirits.

But after lunch Stott came out and took the first over. I don't know
what had passed between him and Findlater, but the captain had evidently
been over-persuaded.

We must not blame Findlater. The cut certainly appeared trifling, it was
not bad enough to prevent Stott from bowling, and Hampdenshire seemed
powerless on that wicket without him. It is very easy to distribute
blame after the event, but most people would have done what Findlater
did in those circumstances.

The cut did not appear to inconvenience Stott in the least degree. He
bowled Mallinson with his second ball, and the innings was finished up
in another fifty-seven minutes for the addition of thirty-eight runs.

Hampdenshire made two hundred and thirty-seven for three wickets before
the drawing of stumps, and that was the end of the match, for the
weather changed during the night and rain prevented any further play.

I, of course, stayed on in Nottingham to await results. I saw Stott on
the next day, Friday, and asked him about his finger. He made light of
it, but that evening Findlater told me over the bridge-table that he was
not happy about it. He had seen the finger, and thought it showed a
tendency to inflammation. "I shall take him to Gregory in the morning if
it's not all right," he said. Gregory was a well-known surgeon in
Nottingham.

Again one sees, now, that the visit to Gregory should not have been
postponed, but at the time one does not take extraordinary precautions
in such a case as this. A split finger is such an everyday thing, and
one is guided by the average of experience. After all, if one were
constantly to make preparation for the abnormal; ordinary life could not
go on....

I heard that Gregory pursed his lips over that finger when he had
learned the name of his famous patient. "You'll have to be very careful
of this, young man," was Findlater's report of Gregory's advice. It was
not sufficient. I often wonder now whether Gregory might not have saved
the finger. If he had performed some s