“What luck!”
“What misery—what misery!” half moaned the other.
“Bosh! Be a man! Don't talk so loud, either! There are a half-dozen in the room.”
Lorry remained perfectly quiet for ten minutes, his staring eyes fixed on the ceiling. He was thinking of the abyss he had reached and could not cross.
“What time is it?” he asked at last, turning his eyes toward his friend.
“It's just seven o'clock. You have been unconscious or under the influence of ether for over four hours. That guard hit you a fearful crack.”
“I heard a shot—a lot of them. Was any one killed? Did those fellows escape?”
“Killed! There have been eight executions besides the one I attended to. Lord, they don't wait long here before handing out justice.”
“Tell me all that happened. Was she hurt?”
“I should say not! Say, Gren, I have killed a man. Dannox got my bullet right in the head and he never knew what hit him. Ghastly, isn't it? I feel beastly queer. It was he who turned on the lights and went at you with a club. I heard you call, and was in the door just as he hit you. His finish came inside of a second. You and he spoiled the handsomest rug I ever saw.”