“Hadn’t I better fetch a doctor, sir?” he asked. “I’m afraid he’s hurt.”
“Not he!” Horser answered contemptuously. “He’s cut his cheek a little, that’s all. Put him to bed. Say I shall be round again by nine o’clock.”
Horser put on his coat and left the house. The morning sunlight was flooding the streets. Away down town Mr. Sabin was dozing in his high-backed chair.
CHAPTER IX
Felix, after an uneventful voyage, landed duly at Liverpool. To his amazement the first person he saw upon the quay was Mr. Sabin, leaning upon his stick and smoking a cigarette.
“Come, come, Felix!” he exclaimed. “Don’t look at me as though I were a ghost. You have very little confidence in me, after all, I see.”
“But—how did you get here?”
“The Campania, of course. I had plenty of time. It was easy enough for those fellows to arrest me, but they never had a chance of holding me.”
“But how did you get away in time?”