"Now he is again gone," soliloquized Z. Pelham, as Giorgio's eyes closed; "I have fear this time he is truly died!" And he chafed the cook's temples anew.
"It's all clear now," said Peter, "and Ercoly isn't mad; only hurt in some way. So I'll go for help at once."
"Oh, Peter, you always get lost!" moaned his sister.
And it was true that the Consul almost invariably lost his way in the labyrinth of chinks behind the palace.
"I'll go," said the Englishman. "It's not very late" (he looked at his watch); "I shall be sure to find some one."
"You must let me go with you, my dear," urged Lady Kay.
In three minutes they were back with two men. "I've brought these two, and there's a doctor coming. And I sent word to the police," said the Englishman.
And following very soon came a half-dressed youth, a young American doctor, who had been roused by somebody. The cook was borne up the stairway and into the salon, where the chandeliers were shedding their soft radiance calmly, and where all the fairy-lamps were still burning on the Christmas-tree; for only twenty minutes had passed since the host and his guests had left the room. Behind the group of the two men from outside, who with Peter and the doctor were carrying Giorgio, came Sir William leading the gondolier, who seemed now entirely blind, while Z. Pelham followed, last of all, on his hands and knees.
"This old man has a deep cut—done with a knife; he has lost a good deal of blood; pretty bad case," said the doctor. "Your gondolier has been dreadfully beaten about the head, but it won't kill him; he is young and strong. This third man seems to be only sprained. Get me something for bandages and compresses, and bring cold water."
"Get towels, Barly," said the Consul.