"Take off his stockings—they're homespun—while I remove the cravat. The pin was a present; it has his name engraved on the plate behind."
The slant of the moonlight had died off the floor, and all was dark.
Drayton's craven fears seemed to leave him. He laughed and crowed. "How quiet the fence is—very obliging, I'm sure—just fainted in the nick of time. Will it last?"
"Quick! strip off your own clothes and put them where these have come from. The coat with the torn lapel—where is it? Make no mistake about that."
"I'll pound it, no!" Drayton laughed a short, hoarse laugh.
There was some shuffling in the darkness. Then a pause.
"Hush!"
Mercy knew that Hugh Ritson had grasped the arm of Drayton, and that both held their breath. At that moment the moonlight returned, and the bleared shaft that had once crossed the floor now crossed the bed. The light fell on the face of the prostrate man. His eyes were open.
"Water—water!" said Paul Ritson, very feebly.
Hugh Ritson stepped out of the moonlight and went behind his brother. Then Mercy saw a hand before Paul's face, putting a spirit flask to his mouth.