His manner reassured her. Moreover, he had the look of a man at the end of his strength. She wondered what had happened to affect him so.
She got out of the car without further discussion and waited while he ran it under an archway into the stableyard. It seemed a long while before he joined her again, and then she noticed that he moved with a curiously halting gait, almost as if he were feeling his way.
“It’s all right,” he said, as he reached her. “The door’s open. Come inside!”
He extended a hand to push it back for her, but very strangely the intention was frustrated. It was as if he had found some obstacle in his path. And as she turned towards him in surprise he suddenly uttered an inarticulate exclamation and grabbed at her arm. She was aware of his whole weight flung abruptly upon her, and she caught at him, supporting him as best she could.
He staggered against the door-post, breathing heavily. “I shall be all right in a minute—in a minute,” he gasped out. “Just hold me up—if you can! I won’t faint.”
She held him up, exerting all her strength.
Several dreadful seconds passed, then he made a determined effort and straightened himself. As he did so, she felt the sleeve of his coat at the elbow and found it wet through. A ghastly doubt assailed her.
“What has happened?” she said through trembling lips. “Your arm! Is it—is it——”
“Blood? Yes. I got it in the shoulder. Don’t be frightened! I shall get over it. Can you open the door?”
He spoke jerkily, but with more assurance. Frances opened the door with a sick wonder if the horrors of that night would ever pass.