‘Bosh!’ said Preene, ‘it’s all right; but I’m afraid the poor devil outside’s been hit.’
He leant out and called, ‘Dickson! Dickson!’
A faint voice answered him.
‘Help! help! I’m hit! He’s shot me!’
‘What, in Heaven’s name, does this mean?’ gasped Marston, grasping Preene’s arm.
‘What does it mean? Why, that I’ve earned my thousand pounds, and that one of my men’s been shot by that scoundrel Heckett.’
‘One of your men?’
‘Yes. One back and one front did the trick. You didn’t want to bring a dozen.’
‘Then it’s all a——’
‘Exactly; that’s just what it is. I knew Heckett watched me here last night, and I didn’t tell you, because I saw you were nervous already. I formed my scheme on that, and played my cards so as to force him up here to-night. It was the best place for a sham arrest I could think of. But bring a light and some water, and show us the way into the garden. I don’t want the poor devil outside to bleed to death.’