“Not till I get the stitches in,” Edmund said with decision. “It would only start the bleeding. I think, my lord, you and my brother had better leave us. Bates and I will get him upstairs in a bit.”
We were evidently useless. As we turned to go we met Bates coming down the stairs with a basin and jug of water, a sponge, towels, cotton wool and bandages. I realised the hopelessness of my even giving directions to one so much more capable than myself.
For half an hour the bishop and I hovered uneasily in the smoking-room, listening to every sound that came from the cellar below. It had been impossible to question the sorely wounded man about Jakoub, but the same dread, the same horror, was in both our minds. Jakoub in his madness had wounded Welfare and escaped. Already I believed he must have run blindly into the trap prepared for him. Nothing now could explain my action in concealing him from the police, and the bishop himself could hardly escape aspersion.
At last we heard slow steps ascending the cellar stairs.
CHAPTER XVIII
HOW JAKOUB WAS NO MORE SEEN
CAPTAIN WELFARE came in leaning on Edmund, who helped him into an arm-chair.
His head was neatly bandaged, and he was clad in a dressing-gown. He was still evidently weak, although largely restored from the pitiable object that had crawled into the cellar.
The bishop and I hastened to commiserate him, and I suggested his going straight to bed.
“No, thank you, sir,” he said, leaning back in the chair. “I’m better now. I shall be all right in a few minutes. Your man is getting me something to drink. Anyhow I must keep on my legs for a bit. There’s a deal to be settled and done to-night.”
“Where is Jakoub?” I ventured to ask at last.