"He can stay here if you have a place for him," said the doctor. O'Neil drew him aside, inquiring, "Will he live?"
The doctor indicated Vittoria with a movement of his head. "I'm sure of it. That girl won't let him die."
The news of that combat traveled fast and far and it came to Myra Nell Warren among the first. Despite the dreadful false position in which Bernie had placed her with respect to Norvin, the girl had but one thought and that was to go to her friend. She could not endure the sight of blood, and her somewhat child-like imagination conjured up a gory spectacle. She was afraid that if she tried to act as nurse she would faint or run away when most needed. But she was determined to go to him and to assist in any way she could. It was not consistent with her ideas of loyalty to shrink from the sight of suffering even though she could do nothing to relieve it.
When she mounted the stairs to Oliveta's living-quarters she was pale and agitated, and she faltered on the threshold at the sight of strangers. Within were a newspaper reporter, a doctor, the Chief of Police, the Mayor of the city, while outside a curious throng was gathered. Seeing Miss Fabrizi, she ran toward her, sobbing nervously.
"Where is he, Vittoria? Tell me that he's—safe!"
Some one answered, "He's safe and resting quietly."
"T-take me to him."
A spasm stirred Vittoria's tired features; she petted the girl with a comforting hand, while Mayor Wright said, gently:
"It must have been a great shock to you, Myra Nell, as it was to all of us, but you may thank God he has been spared to you."
The reporter made a note upon his pad, and began framing the heart interest of his story. Here was a new and interesting aspect of an event worth many columns.