My head went round, and I felt positively bloodthirsty. Seizing my hat, I hastened round, and arrived just as Santley was carrying Ellen up the steps into the house. Yes, actually carrying her in his arms! I could scarcely believe my eyes; but, coming up close, I saw that she was ghastly pale, and that something unusual must have occurred.
He had placed her on a chair in the lobby, and was bending over her just as I followed. I am afraid that the expression of my face was sinister and agitated enough; I stood glaring at the two, like one gasping for breath.
“Don’t be alarmed,” he said, meeting my eyes. “There has been a slight accident, that is all. Mrs. Haldane slipped on the ice, and, falling, sprained her ankle.”
Ellen, who seemed in great pain, looked up at me with a beseeching expression; for she at least read my suspicion in my face.
“It was so stupid of me!” she murmured, forcing a faint smile, and reaching out her hand. “I could not come home alone—I was in such pain—and Mr. Santley kindly volunteered to bring me.”
What could I do? I could not knock a man down for having performed what appeared a simple act of courtesy. I could not exhibit any anger, without looking like an idiot or a boor. Santley had merely done what any other gentleman would have done under the circumstances. For all that, I had an uneasy sense of being humbugged.
“Let me look at your foot,” I said gruffly.
She pushed, it from underneath her dress. The boot had been taken off, and a white silk handkerchief tightly wrapped about the ankle.
“Mr. Santley bound it up,” she explained.
I took the foot in my hand, and in my secret fury, I think I was a little rough, for she uttered a cry.