“Mr Frewen, do you know me?” I said.
“Know you?—know you? Yes, of course,” he said hoarsely. “What is the matter?—what has happened?” and his hand went to the back of his head.
“You were hurt when the powder went off,” I said, watching his face eagerly. “Don’t you remember?”
“Yes,” he cried eagerly. “I threw myself back over the barricade with you.”
“And the door and all the boxes and chests were blown in and buried us, I think.”
“Was—was any one killed?” he said huskily.
“I don’t know; I think not,” I replied.
“But don’t you know, boy?” he cried angrily.
“No; I was hurt by the chests the same as you were, and don’t know what happened. It was all like being in a dream till a little while ago.”
“Then you know nothing?” he said excitedly.