As she turned, the Englishman lifted himself on one elbow, fumbled instinctively in his breast pockets, and drew out two envelopes.
"Take them to Sister Eila!—Hurry, Philippa——" He passed a shaking hand across his eyes, swayed to a sitting posture, caught at the stair rail, and dragged himself to his feet.
"Give me that pistol," he muttered. She handed it to him; he groped in his pockets for a few moments, found a clip, reloaded, and, reeling slightly, walked with her aid as far as the front door. Philippa opened it for him.
"Where is this man?" he asked vaguely.
"Mr. Warner followed him upstairs."
He pressed his hand over his battered head, nodded, extended the two envelopes to her.
"Sister Eila," he repeated.
Philippa took the papers; he straightened his shoulders with a visible effort; then, steadying himself by the handrail, he started to ascend the stairs.
The girl watched him mount slowly to the landing above, saw him disappear, stood listening a moment longer.
Magda and Linette came stealing into the hallway; Philippa pointed to the telephone.