“Will you come round to the hospital?” he asked. “Hill has asked for you, and they will take his depositions to-night.”
She slipped on her cloak and stepped into the hansom with him. They drove rapidly through the emptying streets.
“Will he die?” she asked.
“Impossible to say,” he answered. “We have a private room at St. Felix. Everything is being done that can be.”
“You are sure that he asked for me—not for Annabel?”
“Certain,” Courtlaw answered.
“Has he accused any one yet?”
“Not yet,” he answered. “I have scarcely left his side.”
He was still conscious when they reached the hospital and his state was much more favourable. The doctor and another man were by his bedside when they entered the room, and there were writing materials which had evidently been used close at hand. He recognised Anna, and at once addressed her.
“Thank you—for coming,” he said. “The doctor has asked me to give them my reasons—for shooting myself. I’ve told them all that was necessary, but I—wanted to ask your pardon—for having made myself a nuisance to you, and for breaking into your rooms—and to thank you—the doctor says you bound up my wound—or I should have bled to death.”