It was a firm, well-molded countenance. It was pale, but unyielding. Martha stared at the closed eyelids, hoping frantically that The Shadow still lived.
The maid was here now. She and Martha were following the physician's instructions.
Doctor Merritt was a practitioner of long experience. He tended the wound with the utmost skill.
Martha, watching The Shadow's face, saw the eyes open and sparkle momentarily. Then the eyelids closed. It was after midnight when the physician and the girl stood together in the downstairs hall. Doctor Merritt was quiet and thoughtful. Martha Delmar was tense.
"He is all right," said the doctor. "The wound is by no means a serious one. He has suffered chiefly from loss of blood. He must remain quiet for a few days, while he regains his strength. He is too weak to talk at present. So you can tell me how it happened."
"I don't know, Doctor Merritt," declared Martha frankly. "I only know that Mr. Arnaud is a friend — a true friend — and that he came here wounded."
"I must report this case," said the physician.
"Please, doctor," pleaded Martha. "You must not make me the victim of more notoriety. I have suffered terribly since my father died. People have plotted against me, Doctor Merritt, and Mr. Arnaud is the only one who has stood by faithfully. So much is at stake, doctor—" The girl's pathetic tone succeeded. Doctor Merritt nodded slowly.
"I shall wait a few days," he said. "You may rely upon me, Miss Delmar. Since you know nothing of the accident, I shall wait until I can question Mr. Arnaud."
"I think it would be best for me to stay away a little while — unless I hear from you. I see no possible complications. Call me if any should develop. But say nothing."