“Is he killed?” Evander asked.
Thoroughgood answered both in a breath.
“Badly wounded. They bring him here.”
As he spoke, Garlinge and Clupp entered from the garden, bearing Halfman between them, wrapped in Evander’s mantle.
The man of gallant carriage, of swaggering alacrity, seemed to lie horribly limp in the men’s arms. Evander hurriedly made a couch of chairs and bade them lay their burden it, that he might examine the wound. Brilliana bent over him.
“Oh, my dear friend,” she sobbed.
The sound of her voice seemed to awaken Halfman. He opened his eyes.
“Lift me up,” he said, feebly, to his supporters. He looked at Brilliana. “Lady, you have been deceived. Sir Randolph escaped from his enemies. A snare was set for Captain Cloud—” he paused.
“By whom?” cried Brilliana, the woman eager for her lover.
Something like a smile came to Halfman’s face.