“It smashed one of your window panes.”
“What have you done with the revolver?”
“I’ve got it in my pocket.”
“You’d better let me have it before he revives.”
“He’s coming to now,” said Jack, handing the weapon to the broker, who rushed into his private office and hid it.
The big man, whose name Jack had found out was Oliver Bird, recovered his senses and looked blankly around as if he didn’t comprehend what had happened to him or where he was.
“How do you feel now, sir?” asked Jack, assisting him to rise.
“Feel? Why, what’s the matter with me? I didn’t have a fit, did I?”
The boy didn’t feel like making an explanation, for he knew the man would realize the situation in a moment.
“Let me assist you into the private office, sir,” he suggested, thinking it well that Mr. Bird should be removed from the curious gaze and remarks of the outsiders who blocked up the space outside the railing.