"It is not more than a deep scratch," she said, "but it bled a great deal, and so weakened you. To-morrow it may feel stiff, and you may have a headache; but that will be all."
Quickly, and with admirable skill, she put the bandages in place. When it was done he surveyed himself ruefully in a mirror.
"With that," remarked he, "there is nothing left for me but my room. So if you will show me there, I shall be obliged to you."
She led the way to the stairs, opened a door upon the second floor and then halted.
"I beg your pardon, sir," she said, "but I shall have to go for a match. I can never remember."
He produced a metal safe and struck a match. She took it from him, and entering the room, turned on and lighted the gas.
"There is no wiring above the first floor," she said, in explanation; "and I find it confusing at times." She went from one thing to another, seeing that all was right "The room is small," she continued, "but I think you will find it comfortable. And right behind it," opening another door, "there is another room, sir, with fine large windows in case this should get too stuffy for you in the night. You can open the door and the back window, and so get plenty of air and no direct draught."
Ashton-Kirk thanked her and she went out. He took off his coat, sat down in a big cane chair and leaned his wounded head against a cushion.
"Rather a night," said he to himself. "Things seem to have crowded upon me in a rather unexpected sort of a way. And this knock on the head has not just helped to make it all clear, either."