“Oh, don’t! Don’t touch me!” she whispered, faintly, as she felt the strong light thrown on her face. “Don’t touch me! My leg is broken and—something here.”
Her right hand moved feebly up to her chest, and then her head fell back.
“She’s fainted,” said Clifford. “Poor little woman! What shall we do? Shall I fetch a doctor?”
“No, sir; leave me to do that,” replied the police-sergeant, promptly. “You stay here while I send for help. There’s some one close by will go for me.”
He went away quickly, leaving his lantern. Clifford looked down at the little withered face, and he fancied he detected a flicker of the eyelids. As he bent his head to look closer, he was surprised by her faint whisper in his ear.
“I am glad, oh, so glad,” she murmured, still without opening her eyes, “that this has happened. For now they cannot make me give evidence against poor Nell.”
“My dear lady,” said Clifford, in the same low voice, “pray don’t trouble your head about that now. Nell will be all right. I am sure of it.”
The policeman in the room above, hearing the voices, looked out.
“Has she come to?” he asked.
“Ye-es,” answered Clifford, doubtfully.