When the bandaging had been accomplished, he turned to Muriel. “Now please go away, Muriel dear,” he said, “and thanks very much for your help. Remember, not a word about this to anybody at all.”
He smiled at her reassuringly, and obliged her to take her departure, again cautioning her to keep the incident secret. She walked across the lawn to the house, dazed and anxious; and thus she went up to her room, where, looking into the mirror, she was surprised to observe the paleness of her face.
Meanwhile Daniel sat upon the bench beside the Egyptian, smoking his pipe, and waiting for him to recover his composure. The incident had been so foolish, and the attempt upon his life so bungled, that he felt nothing but pity for the wretched man who, he presumed, had believed himself to be performing a patriotic act.
The Secret Service Agents had fully warned him of possible danger, and he had spotted this youth as a suspicious character as soon as he had entered the alcove. The man had been trembling visibly, and when his unsteady hand had fumbled in his pocket, Daniel had gripped his wrist on the instant that the revolver came into sight. The bullet had struck the balustrade and had gone singing into the river, while the weapon had fallen with a clatter upon the pavement.
Daniel had experienced no alarm, and now he felt no anger. He was determined, however, to get to the root of the plot; and it seemed to him far wiser to take action here and now, than to await a judicial enquiry.
As soon, therefore, as his assailant had ceased his moaning and his monotonous rocking to and fro, Daniel took him by his left arm, and led him across the lawn and round to the front gates of the Residency. Here he hailed one of the little open carriages from the stand at the other side of the square, and, helping the Egyptian into it, told the coachman to drive to the nearest hospital.
In the consulting room he explained to the doctor that the man was a friend of his who had injured his wrist by a fall; and soon the mischief was rectified and the arm put into splints.
Daniel then announced his intention of seeing him back to his house; but at this the man aroused himself from the silent stupor into which he had fallen, and vehemently protested.
“You cannot come with me,” he declared. “By God, I shall give no address.”
Daniel had been told by his agents an address at which a certain group of malcontents were known to meet; and, chancing the man’s connection with this fraternity, he now named the house to the driver. The effendi immediately sank back into the corner of the carriage with a look of terror upon his face which indicated clearly enough that the surmise had been correct.