"Shall I—"
"No hurry," said Battle. "We'll let them in presently. You come and give me a hand."
Loraine came obediently. The Superintendent had produced a large, clean pocket-handkerchief and was neatly bandaging the wounded man's arm. Loraine helped him.
"He'll be all right," said the Superintendent. "Don't you worry. As many lives as cats, these young fellows. It wasn't the loss of blood knocked him out either. He must have caught his head a crack on the floor as he fell."
Outside the knocking on the door had become tremendous. The voice of George Lomax, furiously upraised, came loud and distinct:
"Who is in there? Open the door at once."
Superintendent Battle sighed.
"I suppose we shall have to," he said. "A pity."
His eyes darted round, taking in the scene. An automatic lay by Jimmy's side. The Superintendent picked it up gingerly, holding it very delicately, and examined it. He grunted and laid it on the table. Then he stepped across and unlocked the door.
Several people almost fell into the room. Nearly everybody said something at the same minute. George Lomax, spluttering with obdurate words which refused to come with sufficient fluency, exclaimed: