I made an attempt to rise. The woman came to my bedside.
'How does the gentleman feel hisself now?' she asked kindly.
'Better, thank you,' I said. 'I am ashamed of lying like this, but I feel very queer.'
'And it's no wonder, when that devil Slicer give you one o' his even down blows on the top o' your head. Nobody knows what he carry in his sleeve that he do it with—only you've got off well, young man, and that I tell you, with a decent cut like that. Only don't you go tryin' to get up now. Don't be in a hurry till your blood comes back like.'
I lay still again for a little. When I lifted my hand to my head, I found it was bandaged up. I tried again to rise. The woman went to the door, and called out,
'Job, the gentleman's feelin' better. He'll soon be able to move, I think. What will you do with him now?'
'I'll go and get a cab,' said Job; and I heard him go down a stair.
I raised myself, and got on the floor, but found I could not stand. By the time the cab arrived, however, I was able to crawl to it. When Job came, I saw the same tall thin man in the long dress coat. His head was bound up too.
'I am sorry to see you too have been hurt—for my sake, of course,' I said. 'Is it a bad blow?'
'Oh! it ain't over much. I got in with a smeller afore he came right down with his slogger. But I say, I hope as how you are a friend of Mr. Falconer's, for you see we can't afford the likes of this in this quarter for every chance that falls in Slicer's way. Gentlemen has no business here.'