"She is in my room," Arnold replied. "She was too terrified to remain alone over there. You don't want her, do you?" he asked, anxiously.
The man shook his head.
"I have no definite instructions concerning her," he said, "but we should like to know that she has no intention of going away."
Arnold threw open the door before them.
"I am sure that she has not," he declared. "She is quite an invalid, and besides, she has nowhere else to go."
The sergeant gave a few orders respecting the movement of a pile of articles covered over by a tablecloth, which had been dragged out of Isaac's room. Before he had finished, Arnold ventured upon the question which had been all the time trembling upon his lips.
"This man Isaac Lalonde—was he arrested?"
The sergeant made no immediate reply.
"Tell me, at least, was any one hurt?" Arnold begged.
"No one was shot, if you mean that," the sergeant admitted.