“Hospital? What for? What’s the matter with me?”
Courtlaw’s voice sank to a whisper. A nurse was at the other end of the room.
“There was an accident with a pistol in Miss Pellissier’s room,” he said.
The light of memory flashed in the man’s face. His brows drew a little nearer together.
“Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. “I had found her at last, and she shot me. Listen, you. Am I going to die?”
“I am afraid that you are in a dangerous state,” Courtlaw answered gravely. “The nurse will fetch the doctor directly. I wanted to speak to you first.”
“Who are you?”
“I am a friend of Miss Pellissier’s,” Courtlaw answered.
“Which one?”
“The Miss Pellissier in whose rooms you were, and who sings at the ‘Unusual,’” Courtlaw answered. “The Miss Pellissier who was at White’s with us.”