He opened his eyes very wide now and shook his head. ‘No, at least nothing much. Just one bang. I was very lucky though.’ He smiled at her and then looked down at Morgan, who was still lying there, motionless.
She followed his glance. ‘He’s not—not dead, is he?’
He took the candle from her. ‘No fear. Probably hardly stunned. He went down with a fearful whack, but he’s obviously a tough subject and there’s probably nothing wrong with him. Let’s have a look at him.’. He held the light above the outstretched Morgan, who was stirring a little now and breathing heavily, and Margaret came peeping over his shoulder. ‘He’s only knocked himself out,’ Philip told her. ‘He’ll be conscious again in a minute unless he happens to fall asleep; and it’s more than likely that he will fall asleep, because he’s very drunk.’
Margaret raised her eyes dubiously to his. ‘Suppose he—begins again?’
‘He won’t. Don’t worry about that.’ Philip took her arm and began moving away. ‘When he comes to his senses he won’t remember anything, and he probably won’t be fit for much, anyhow.’
Margaret tightened her arm against his fingers. ‘I can’t imagine how you did it, Phil.’
He laughed. ‘That’s obviously the right remark and just the right tone of voice, my dear. You caught the note of pride. Well, I can’t help feeling rather like Jack-the-Giant-Killer. And, as a matter of fact, I can’t imagine how I did it either.’
They were walking slowly back along the landing now. Suddenly Margaret stopped. ‘Listen, Phil. You see that room there, the door where I was standing?’
‘Yes.’ What was this? The dark house closed round him again.
‘There’s someone in there, a man I think. When I was standing there I heard him call out, in a tiny weak voice.’