Dunn attempted to rise to his feet. “Put your hand in my pocket,” he said in a hurried whisper. “No, there!—bring out a book. There, I haven't looked at it yet. Is that it?” he added, handing her the book Brace had given him a few hours before.
“Yes,” said Teresa, in surprise. “Where did you find it?”
“Never mind! Now let me see it, quick. Open it, for my sight is failing. There—thank you—that's all!”
“Take more whisky,” said Teresa, with a strange anxiety creeping over her. “You are faint again.”
“Wait! Listen, Teresa—lower—put your ear lower. Listen! I came near killing that chap Low to-day. Wouldn't it have been ridiculous?”
He tried to smile, but his head fell back. He had fainted.
CHAPTER IX
For the first time in her life Teresa lost her presence of mind in an emergency. She could only sit staring at the helpless man, scarcely conscious of his condition, her mind filled with a sudden prophetic intuition of the significance of his last words. In the light of that new revelation she looked into his pale, haggard face for some resemblance to Low, but in vain. Yet her swift feminine instinct met the objection. “It's the mother's blood that would show,” she murmured, “not this man's.”
Recovering herself, she began to chafe his hands and temples, and moistened his lips with the spirit. When his respiration returned with a faint color to his cheeks, she pressed his hands eagerly and leaned over him.