'Yes, sir.'
'If he won't sit still to be shaved, cut his head off.' [{422}]
'Yes, sir.'
Van Torp's eyes were awful to see. He had never been so angry in his life. He turned and saw Lady Maud pressing her handkerchief to her right temple. The ball had grazed it, though it had certainly not been meant for her.
'Rufus!' she cried in great distress, 'what have you done?'
'The question is what he's done to you,' answered Van Torp. 'I believe the blackguard has shot you!'
'It's nothing. Thank God it hit me! It was meant for you.'
Van Torp's rage instantly turned into tender care, and he insisted on examining the wound, which was slight but would leave a scar. By a miracle the ball had grazed the angle of the temple without going near the temporal artery, and scarcely singeing the thick brown hair.
Van Torp rang and sent for water and absorbent cotton, and made a very neat dressing, over which Lady Maud tied her big veil. Just as this was done, Stemp appeared at the door.
'It's ready, sir, if you would like to come and see. I've not scratched him once, sir.'