"What do you see?" asked Malcolm.
"There is a man lying on his face on the floor. He must have had a fit or something."
"Can you get through and lower yourself to the floor?"
"I think so. I will try."
"It is the only way to get into the room."
In very quick time Rupert accomplished his object. He turned the key and opened the door.
It was as he had said. A man lay prone upon the floor, and beside him, crying bitterly, was a pretty little boy of five, who was evidently very much frightened.
"Papa sick," he said.
Malcolm bent over the prostrate man, and tearing open his vest placed his hand on his heart.