The Notched Ears

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Dr. Gregory Hewson shortened his long angular stride in order to keep step with the white clad figure of his chubby friend, A. Kahn Haidari of the Calcutta Police, as they walked down a corridor of the Indian General Hospital of Calcutta. Even though it was quite early in the morning, Dr. Hewson’s seersucker suit was plastered to him with perspiration generated by the humid heat of Calcutta in the monsoon season.

“But, Gregory, my friend. I cannot understand how you have induced me to bring you here. It isn’t as though you were a medical man. You are an anthropologist and a psychologist. If the department should hear of my bringing you here to see one of these strange cases of mutilation, I would be subjected to criticism.”

“Look, Kahn. What you told me last night at dinner about these screwy cases interested me. Nobody is going to object. Just relax. I want to see this fellow that got chopped up. After all, I’ve got to do something until my ship arrives. The department I was working for has folded completely. You are a good enough friend to keep me from going crazy in this heat by giving me something to think about, aren’t you?”

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