The two men stood in silence, gazing down at the huddled figure. Then, "He must go," said Baggin.
Poltavo was silent a moment.
"No," he said finally, "I do not agree."
Baggin regarded him blackly.
"I see your point," he said, with biting emphasis. "With the others"—he wet his dry lips—"you cast the black vote fast enough——"
The count elevated his eyebrows. "Why refer to such things?" he objected mildly. "If they be necessary—do them, swiftly and well—but be silent, even as Nature is silent. For Mr. Grayson, he is—how you say—a very sick man. Perhaps——" He shrugged his shoulders and did not finish the sentence.
He bent down to the unconscious man.
"Lend a hand," he said quietly to Baggin.
The American obeyed, sullenly, and, between them, they half supported, half carried Grayson to his cabin.