“Nicely done, Philip, nicely!” No disturbed note, no ruffled sound, no excitement whatever,—just Bob Rack saying a word or two in his calm and tranquil way, both then and an instant later: “Sit up, Adam! Let him rise, Phil. I think we were here just in good season. You see how Mr. Peek is, Phil,—back there in the front room. You’ll find another lamp in the kitchen, no doubt.”
Nothing surprised Phil more, perhaps, than the effect of the detective’s low and even tones upon himself. Though panting for breath, after the recent struggle and his exertion, he noticed that he experienced no sense of fear or apprehension. He found a lamp on a low mantel and lighted it. As he went toward the room adjoining, he heard Mr. Rack call cheerily, “Light up the car, boys! Drive up to the yard here, if you will.”
The scene Phil discovered in the front room would have been horrifying but for the calm upon him, to which allusion has just been made. Mr. Peek, dressed as if for work, sat on the edge of the bed, his face covered by his hands while blood stained his fingers and dripped, like the dropping of water, upon the oil-cloth covering the floor.
Hastily Way helped the old man to rise. He wanted the outer air he said—his chair near the kitchen door. The lad led him as he wished, then brought water and a towel. Helping himself, then, Mr. Peek bathed an ugly wound above and to the left of his left eyebrow. A revolver in his hand, Mr. Rack sat on the lower steps of the porch. His prisoner sat on the ground before him and the detective had taken the precaution of slipping handcuffs upon him.
Billy, Paul and Dave had now arrived upon the scene, but not one ventured a word.
“Are you able to ride to town, Mr. Peek?” asked Mr. Rack. “You’ll be so much better there than here.”
But no, the old gentleman would not go. He was not much hurt, he said, and would feel perfectly safe to remain alone. “Safer than I have really been for many a day, I don’t doubt,” he added. “But if he had struck the temple, as he surely tried to, he would have killed me,” shuddered the aged farmer. “Lord, I have suffered as I have deserved!”
The latter words were low, as if spoken in prayer. Then quite aloud again, “Take him with you. You might drop in to-morrow. Maybe my boys will be out this way.” The latter words were accompanied by a smile. “You and your automobile did good work to-night, boys! However you happened along, I can’t think! And this gentleman with you?”
“It’s quite a story, Mr. Peek. I’ll tell you all about it when you’ve rested some,” said Way, holding a lamp, while Billy tied a soft, clean handkerchief over the wound. Worth was gentle and clever as a woman at such things.