‘Yes; Mrs. Mavor’s. I shall run on to tell her.’
She met us at the door. I had in mind to say some words of apology, but when I looked upon her face I forgot my words, forgot my business at her door, and stood simply looking.
‘Come in! Bring him in! Please do not wait,’ she said, and her voice was sweet and soft and firm.
We laid him in a large room at the back of the shop over which Mrs. Mavor lived. Together we dressed the wound, her firm white fingers, skilful as if with long training. Before the dressing was finished I sent Craig off, for the time had come for the Magic Lantern in the church, and I knew how critical the moment was in our fight. ‘Go,’ I said; ‘he is coming to, and we do not need you.’
In a few moments more Graeme revived, and, gazing about, asked, ‘What’s, all this about?’ and then, recollecting, ‘Ah! that brute Keefe’; then seeing my anxious face he said carelessly, ‘Awful bore, ain’t it? Sorry to trouble you, old fellow.’
‘You be hanged!’ I said shortly; for his old sweet smile was playing about his lips, and was almost too much for me. ‘Mrs. Mavor and I are in command, and you must keep perfectly still.’
‘Mrs. Mavor?’ he said, in surprise. She came forward, with a slight flush on her face.
‘I think you know me, Mr. Graeme.’
‘I have often seen you, and wished to know you. I am sorry to bring you this trouble.’
‘You must not say so,’ she replied, ‘but let me do all for you that I can. And now the doctor says you are to lie still.’