“It’s hard to say,” answered the Doctor. “I think not.” The Unknown stirred feebly—made an effort to sit up. Beresford and the Doctor caught him under the arms and helped him to his feet. He stood there swaying, a blank expression on his face.
“A chair!” said the Doctor quickly. “Ah—” He helped the strange figure to sit down and bent over him again.
“You’re all right now, my friend,” he said in his best tones of professional cheeriness. “Dizzy a bit, aren’t you?”
The Unknown rubbed his wrists where his bonds had cut them. He made an effort to speak.
“Water!” he said in a low voice.
The Doctor gestured to Billy. “Get some water—or whisky—if there is any—that’d be better.”
“There’s a flask of whisky in my room, Billy,” added Miss Cornelia helpfully.
“Now, my man,” continued the Doctor to the Unknown. “You’re in the hands of friends. Brace up and tell us what happened!”
Beresford had been looking about for the detective, puzzled not to find him, as usual, in charge of affairs. Now, “Where’s Anderson? This is a police matter!” he said, making a movement as if to go in search of him.
The Doctor stopped him quickly.