As before related, it was but the work of a second for him to reach out and grasp his revolver, which, remembering the robbery at Mr. Dalton’s, he always kept by him ready for use.
When the man passed between his bed and the window, he knew that was his best chance, and fired.
The intruder dropped instantly, with a groan, and his lantern went out as it fell to the floor.
Earle was out of bed and had struck a light in less time that it takes to tell it.
“Who are you?” he demanded, stooping over his fallen foe.
Then he started back with an exclamation of surprise, as he immediately recognized the wretch in whose power he had found Editha, and who had so cleverly escaped from him that morning in the hotel.
It was indeed Tom Drake, and his career as a midnight robber was ended for all time.
He appeared to be suffering terribly, and, upon examination, Earle found that the ball had entered the leg just below the thigh, and, as he could not move it, had probably shattered the bone. Now that his enemy was fallen, Earle’s sympathies were at once aroused. Suffering in any form always touched his heart.
“Well, my man,” he said, kindly, as he bent over him, “what am I going to do for you, I wonder?”
“I guess you’ve done for me already,” was the rough response, accompanied by a fearful oath and a groan as he recognized his captor.