I turned about.
"You had best go, Mistress Avenon," I said. "The rest must be my work."
"You will not surrender yourself?" she asked, very white.
"If he be dead..." I began, but could not finish for trembling.
"He is not dead, I think," she interrupted hastily, and went back to the stair, whence she soon returned with the lamp, which she set down upon a hogshead, and then bent over the wounded man.
"A kerchief," she said, briefly, "a scarf; something linen if you have it."
I tore off a strip from my sleeve and with that she staunched the worst. We made a compress of my band, drenching it in cold water, and for tightness buckled my belt upon it, which I gave her.
"There is burnt wine in yonder firkin," she said, and I fetched a draught in the cup of my two hands.
When he sighed we looked at each other, and I said—
"Who is he?"