"Free my arm, and give me the knife," he said, as soon as he could speak. "I will cut quicker."
She placed the knife in his hand when she had slipped the cord twined round his arm. He could scarcely close his fingers on it, so stiff had they become, and he fumbled clumsily before he had cut himself free. Then he rose to his feet and stood unsteadily.
Patsy had vanished; Mrs. Burke watched him from the shadow at the side of the window.
"You saw them?" he exclaimed. "It was you who fired?"
Before she could answer his eye caught sight of something white lying by the chair. He stooped and picked it up. It was what had been used to muffle his cries, and he saw it was a handkerchief.
Instinctively he opened it out, stepped into the full glare of the light and ran his eyes along the edge. At one corner a name, boldly written, showed clear.
"Charles N. Eustace."
He could not repress an exclamation as he read the name.
"What is it?" she cried, as she came over to him.
She gripped his arm as she also read the name.