For again she lay with immovable lips. But as he spoke an expression of intense agony came over the pinched, thin feature, and he saw that with the return of full consciousness had come also the full sensitiveness to pain.
“Go down and ask the Colonel for some brandy,” called out Clifford.
But the constable did not seem to hear. He still stood at the window, looking down.
Clifford repeated his words, and the man, with evident reluctance, moved from the window. Miss Bostal glanced up and turned her head with a quick, bird-like motion to Clifford.
“Are any of the policemen still about?” she asked, rapidly.
Clifford was about to answer in the negative, when the constable whom he had sent for the brandy, having delivered his message with astonishing celerity, appeared at the corner of the house.
“Here he comes with the brandy,” said Clifford.
But Miss Bostal’s expression of pain gave place at once to one of disgust.
“Brandy!” she exclaimed. “I wouldn’t touch it on any account. I have been a teetotaller all my life.”
Her sudden burst of energy rather disconcerted Clifford, who was much relieved when he saw that the Colonel was close behind the constable. The old man came very slowly to the place where his daughter lay, and peered over the bushes at her.