My suspicions were swept away. I did not believe this could be acting. In some measure I was ashamed
of myself.
"You can drop your hands, McCann," I said, and slipped the automatic back in my pocket.
He said, hoarsely: "Will he live?"
I answered: "I think he has every chance. If there's no infection, I'm sure of it."
"Thank God!" whispered McCann, and over and over, "Thank God!"
And just then Braile entered, and stood staring in amazement at us.
"Ricori has been stabbed. I'll explain the whole matter later," I told him. "Small puncture over the heart
and probably penetrating it. He's suffering mainly from shock. He's coming out of it. Get him up to the
Annex and take care of him until I come."