“Where is he, Mr. Addison?” she said firmly, “and what has happened to him?”
A man, who proved to be a gardener, now appeared upon the scene.
“Help me to carry him in,” I said to this new arrival; “perhaps he has only fainted.”
We gathered up the recumbent body and carried it through the kitchens into the breakfast-room, where there was a deep couch. All the servants were gathered at the foot of the stairs, frightened and useless, but the outcry did not seem to have aroused Major Dale.
Mrs. Dale and I bent over Wales. His face was frightfully congested, whilst his tongue protruded hideously; and it was evident, from the great discoloured weals which now were coming up upon his throat, that he had been strangled, or nearly so. I glanced at the white face of my hostess and then bent over the victim, examining him more carefully. I stood upright again.
“Do you know first aid, Mrs. Dale?” I asked abruptly.
She nodded, her eyes fixed intently upon me.
“Then help to employ artificial respiration,” I said, “and let one of the girls get ammonia, if you have any, and a bowl of hot water. We can patch him up, I think, without medical aid—which might be undesirable.”