We all trooped over to the spot, and there he lay, doubled up in the underwood, his face drawn with pain, and still unconscious. To say that I was sorry for him would have been a lie; nay, if Rupert Devereux had lain by his side I should have been only the better pleased. But he lay so still and motionless that I stooped over him anxiously, and felt his heart. It was beating, though faintly, and I felt distinctly relieved when I looked up again.
"He's alive," I declared, "but only just. Better get him some brandy."
They brought him some from the house, and I poured it between his lips. He revived at once.
"We'd a best take him up to the Court, sir," remarked Groves. "You won't want him down here with only yourself in the house."
So they took him away, and as the long streaks of red light in the east slowly deepened until the autumn sun rose up from behind the pine-trees like a ball of glowing fire, I threw myself down on the couch and slept.
CHAPTER XXVI
I "GIVE WARNING"
By ten o'clock in the morning I had written a letter which had caused me a good deal of trouble and anxiety. It was to Sir Francis Devereux:—
"THE COTTAGE, DEVEREUX,
"Wednesday morning.
"DEAR SIR FRANCIS DEVEREUX,—You will, I am sure, agree with me that the revelation of last evening renders it imperative on my part to leave Devereux at once, or as soon as possible. I must ask you, therefore, to accept this note as an intimation of my desire to do so as soon as is convenient to yourself.