She was so uncomfortable at the sight of him that Michael was glad to go out of the room. It was not until they were back in his sanctum that Mr. Longvale told his story.
“I saw them last night about half-past eleven,” he said. “They were staggering down the road, and I thought at first that they were intoxicated, but fortunately the woman spoke, and as I have never forgotten a voice, even when it spoke in a language that was unfamiliar to me, I realized immediately that it was my patient, and went out to intercept her. I then saw the condition of her companion, and she, recognizing me, began to speak excitedly in a language which I could not understand, though I would have been singularly dense if I had had any doubt as to her meaning. The man was on the point of collapse, but, assisted by the woman, I managed to get him into the house and to the room where he now is. Fortunately, in the expectation of again being called to attend her, I had purchased a small stock of surgical dressing and was able to attend to the man.”
“Is he badly hurt?” asked Michael.
“He has lost a considerable quantity of blood,” said the other, “and, though there seems to be no arteries severed or bones broken, the wounds have an alarming appearance. Now, it has occurred to me,” he went on, in his oddly profound manner, “that this unfortunate native could not have received his injury except as the result of some illegal act, and I thought the best thing to do was to notify the police that they were under my care. I called first upon my excellent friend, Mr. John Knebworth, and opened my heart to him. He then told me your position, and I decided to wait your return before I took any further steps.”
“You have solved a mystery that has puzzled me, and incidentally, you have confirmed a story which I had received with considerable scepticism,” said Mike. “I think you were well advised in informing the police—I will make a report to headquarters, and send an ambulance to take these two people to hospital. Is the man fit to be moved?”
“I think so,” nodded the old gentleman. “He is sleeping heavily now, and has the appearance of being in a state of coma, but that is not the case. They are quite welcome to stay here, though I have no convenience, and must do my own nursing, which is rather a bother, for I am not fitted for such a strain. Happily, the woman is able to do a great deal for him.”
“Did he have a sword when he arrived?”
Mr. Longvale clicked his lips impatiently.
“How stupid of me to forget that! Yes, it is in here.”
He went to a drawer in an old-fashioned bureau, pulled it open and took out the identical sword which Michael had seen hanging above the mantelpiece at Griff Towers. It was spotlessly clean, and had been so when Mr. Longvale took it from the brown man’s hands. And yet he did not expect it to be in any other condition, for to the swordsman of the East his sword is his child, and probably the brown man’s first care had been to wipe it clean.