"Only two sentences," I said. "The man they crucified was Raney. And the reason they caught him was because he was blind."
Bertrand twice moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue. All the vigour seemed to have gone out of him, and his hands twitched as though he had no control over them. I thought I had better finish what I had begun.
"It was the concussion of a bursting shell," I said. "Double detachment of the retina. He wandered about dazed and half mad, got into the wrong trench, charged ... Well, you know the rest."
My uncle rose slowly to his feet, steadied himself against the table and stumbled towards the door.
"Where have you put him?" he asked.
"I'll show you," I answered. "He's asleep, so you mustn't disturb him, and—the subject's never discussed."
My uncle nodded.
I could have sworn that we crossed the hall and opened the door opposite without a sound being made, yet before I had time to turn on the light, Raney was sitting up in bed demanding who we were.
"We didn't mean to wake you," I said. "My uncle's just come in."