Lethbridge grinned. “That is more in my manner than in yours,” he said. He raised himself on his elbow and tried to sit up.
“You had better lie still,” said the Earl, slightly frowning.
“Oh, no!” gasped Lethbridge. “The position is—altogether—too lowly. Add to your humanity by assisting me to that chair.”
The Earl bent over him, and hoisted him up; he sank into the chair panting a little, and pressing his hand to his shoulder. A grey shade had crept into his face; he whispered: “Give me the brandy—quite a deal to say to you.”
The Earl had already poured it out, and now held the glass to Lethbridge’s lips. Lethbridge took it unsteadily in his own hands, saying with a snap: “Damn you, I’m not helpless!” He drank it at a gulp, and lay back recovering his strength. The Earl began to unroll his sleeves. Presently Lethbridge spoke again.
“Sent for a doctor, did you? How magnanimous! Well, he’ll be here any moment, I suppose. Let’s be done with this. Your wife took no harm of me.” He saw the grey eyes lift quickly, and gave a faint laugh. “Oh, make no mistake! I am all the villain you think me. She saved herself.”
“You interest me,” said Rule, moving towards a chair, and sitting down on the arm of it. “I have always thought her a lady of infinite resource.”
“Resource,” murmured Lethbridge. “Yes, decidedly. She used a poker.”
The Earl’s lips twitched. “I see. Your recollection of the subsequent events is no doubt a little—shall we say—imperfect?”
A laugh shook Lethbridge; he winced and pressed his hand to his shoulder again. “I believe she thought she had killed me. Tell her the only grudge I bear her is for having left my front door open.”