“Thank you. Good evening, gentlemen.”
The two detectives then left the patient to himself.
Doctor Bourne’s head and temples were throbbing, and he was in great pain, but consciousness had returned, and he was already much better than anyone would have supposed.
“I wonder who that fellow is Wrench brought with him? A detective from New York, he said. Strange! What made him bring him here, I wonder. Our constabulary is sufficiently effective without enlisting the services of officers belonging to America. It seems a strange thing to me that Wrench should be in such close companionship with a mysterious man like that. From New York, eh?”
He tossed about in an uneasy manner, and kept harping upon the subject for some time; presently the medicine he had swallowed took effect, and he sank into a sound slumber.
CHAPTER XCVII.
WATCHING AND WAITING—A TETE-A-TETE BETWEEN TWO DETECTIVES.
When Mr. Wrench and his companion descended to the basement of the house they were invited into the parlour by the mistress of the establishment, who placed before them wine and brandy—they both elected to have a glass of the latter.
“How do you think the doctor is? He seems very prostrate,” said Mrs. Bourne.
“I think he’s going on all right, madam,” returned Wrench. “He’s weak, of course, but is far better than we had a right to expect, considering the damage to which he has been subjected.”