She clung to his arm, and they struggled up the private path to the house. Mills let them in with many expressions of concern, and Helen came hurrying to them from the background.
“I went out to see the storm,” Philippa explained weakly, “and I saw Mr. Lessingham's boat brought in.”
“And Mr. Lessingham will come this way at once,” Helen insisted. “I haven't had a real case since I got my certificate, and I'm going to bind his head up.”
Philippa began to feel her strength returning. The horror which lay behind those few minutes of nightmare rose up again in her mind. Mills had hurried on into the bathroom, and the other two were preparing to follow. She stopped them.
“Mr. Lessingham,” she said, “listen. Captain Griffiths has been here. He knows or guesses everything.”
“Everything?”
Philippa nodded.
“Helen must bind your head up, of course,” she continued. “After that, think! What can we do? Captain Griffiths knows that there was no Hamar Lessingham at college with Dick, that he never visited Wood Norton, that there is some mystery about your arrival here, and he told me to my face that he believes you to be Bertram Maderstrom.”
“What a meddlesome fellow!” Lessingham grumbled, holding his handkerchief to his forehead.
“Oh, please be serious!” Helen begged, looking up from the bandage which she was preparing. “This is horrible!”