He That Hath Wings
by Edmond Hamilton
Doctor Harriman paused in the corridor of the maternity ward and asked, “What about that woman in 27?’’
There was pity in the eyes of the plump, crisply dressed head nurse as she answered, “She died an hour after the birth of her baby, doctor. Her heart was bad, you know.’’
The physician nodded, his spare, clean-shaven face thoughtful. “Yes, I remember now—she and her husband were injured in an electrical explosion in a subway a year ago, and the husband died recently. What about the baby?”
The nurse hesitated. “A fine, healthy little boy, except—”
“Except what?”
“Except that he is humpbacked, doctor.”
Doctor Harriman swore in pity. “What horrible luck for the poor little devil! Born an orphan, and deformed, too.” He said with sudden decision, “I’ll look at the infant. Perhaps we could do something for him.”
. . .
