“Not a chance in a thousand”—the doctor shook his head. “Concussion of the brain. We'll get his clothes off, and make him comfortable. That's about all we can do. He'll probably not last through the night.”
“I will help you,” offered Raymond, stepping forward.
“It's not necessary, Monsieur le Curé,” said the doctor. “Monsieur Dupont here can——”
“No,” interposed Monsieur Dupont. “Let Monsieur le Curé help you. We will kill two birds with one stone that way. We have still to visit the Blondin house. We do not know this man's name. We know nothing about him. While you are undressing him, I will search through his clothing. Eh? Perhaps we shall find something. I do not swallow whole all the story I have heard. We shall see what we shall see.”
Raymond glanced swiftly at Monsieur Dupont. Because the man clucked with his tongue and had an opinion of himself, he was perhaps a very long way from being either stupid or a fool. Monsieur Dupont might not prove so preferable to Sergeant Marden as he had been so quick to imagine.
“Yes,” agreed Raymond. “Monsieur Dupont is right, I am sure. I will assist you, doctor, while he makes his search.”
Monsieur Dupont stepped briskly around to the far side of the bed, and peered intently into the unconscious man's face, as he waited for Raymond and the doctor to hand him the first article of clothing. He kept clucking with his tongue, and once his eyes narrowed significantly.
Raymond experienced a sense of disquiet. Was the man simply posing for effect, or was he acting naturally—or was there something that had really aroused the other's suspicions. He handed the priest's coat, or, rather, his own, to Monsieur Dupont.
Monsieur Dupont began to go through the pockets—like one accustomed to the task.
“Hah, hah!” he ejaculated suddenly. “Monsieur le Curé, Monsieur le Docteur, I call you both to witness! All this loose money in the side pocket! The side pocket, mind you, and the money loose! It bears out the story that they say Mother Blondin tells about the robbery. I was not quite ready to believe it before. See!” He dumped the money on the bed. “You are witnesses.” He gathered up the money again and replaced it in the pocket. “And here”—from another pocket he produced the revolver—“you are witnesses again.” He broke the revolver. “Ah—h'm—one shot fired! You see for yourselves? Yes, you see. Very well! Continue, messieurs! There may be something more, though it would certainly appear that nothing more was necessary.” He nodded crisply at both Raymond and the doctor.