“Ugh!” ejaculated Claud. “Blood! I didn’t mean that. Why, he must have hit his head on that bit of marble.”
“Yes,” answered Leigh, after a brief examination, “the skull is fractured. We must get him away from here.”
“Not dangerous, is it, doctor?” said Claud, aghast.
Leigh made no answer, but rose to his feet and sat down on one of the hall chairs.
“What is it—faint?” said Claud.
“Yes—get me—something—he cannot move.”
“She seems to be more like sleeping now, sir,” said the housekeeper, appearing at the door. “Oh, no, no; don’t let him get up!”
“It’s all right, old lady. Here, got any brandy? The doctor’s hurt, and faint.”
“Yes, sir; yes, sir,” said the woman, glancing in a horrified way, at the two injured men, as she passed into the dining-room, from which she returned directly with a decanter and glass.
“It’s port wine, sir,” she said in a trembling voice; and she poured out a glass.