“The way of escape was open widely now,” cried Brettison, reaching over to clutch his companion’s wrist, “and I could see my way clearly. It was madness to attempt to move the body of a dead man through the streets, boy—detection was certain; but to take a sick or injured man from one place to another was simplicity itself, and I breathed freely. I could act.”
“Not dead—not dead!” muttered Stratton, who looked as if he had received some terrible mental blow, which had confused his faculties and made the effort of following his old friend’s narrative almost beyond his powers.
“I closed that door at once, in dread now lest the moans should have been heard; and, able to grasp the position, I could work coolly enough. Going down on my knees with sponge and basin, I soon found that there was a small orifice behind the right ear. This had bled freely, but it had ceased; and, grasping at once that the bullet had gone upward, I examined next to find its place of exit.
“There was none. The bullet was, in all probability, still in the head.
“He moaned a little as I bathed away all traces of the injury; and when I had done, save that tiny orifice just behind the ear, there was nothing to show that he was not sleeping, for the face was quite composed.
“What to do next? Not a moment, I felt, must be lost, if I wished to save his life; and, with a feeling of grim cynicism, I asked myself whether I did. For I was in a dilemma. On the one hand, if I saved him, it cleared you from what might devolve into a charge of murder; on the other hand, if I let him die, Myra would be free, and some day—”
“No, no, impossible!” groaned Stratton. “Go on.”
“I could not decide what I ought to do at first, for—I confess it—I was dragged both ways; but I took the right road, Stratton.
“It was late, but it was a case of emergency, and the man’s face helped me to the tale I meant to tell. There was the swollen nose and there were the pimply blotches of the man who drank. That was sufficient for me; and with a strength of which I did not believe myself capable, I dragged him by the shoulders into my bedroom and locked him in. Then, taking my hat, I made my way out unseen, took a cab, and had myself driven to the house of an old servant, who was a pensioner of mine in South London. She was just about to retire for the night, but readily made preparations for the reception of an unfortunate friend of mine who had met with an accident, while I hurried back, discharged my cab, took a fresh one—the man, for ample pay, being willing enough to undertake my task, and soon found for me a strong helper.
“The rest was easy. I lied to them, and, on taking the man up with me, left him in my room, while I went into the chamber, trembling lest I should find our enemy was dead.