CHAPTER XI—END OF THE NIGHT
The body of the detective lay, by chance, lengthwise along the mat at the foot of the stairs. In order to reach the hall, therefore, Juana had no alternative but to step over the prone figure. This she did unhesitatingly, and then turned to Richard.
‘Carry the poor fellow upstairs, will you?’ she asked quietly. ‘He is delirious. The room overhead.’
Richard obeyed. The small, light frame of the detective gave him no trouble. At the top of the stairs he met Mrs. Bridget hastening towards him.
‘Holy Virgin!’ she exclaimed. ‘I did but run down by the backstairs to the kitchen and left the spalpeen with Miss Juana, and when I came back to them the room was as empty as my pocket.’
‘He got a bit wild,’ Richard explained. ‘I suppose his head is affected. Miss Juana is talking with her father. Where is Miss Teresa?’
‘Sure, she’s gone out to the mares. They must have their water, if every soul of us was dying.’
Richard carefully laid Nolan on the bed in the room over the porch. By this time the sufferer had recovered consciousness. He murmured a few meaningless strings of words, then sighed.