"He's a big man, too."
"A big man! Do you mean—You don't mean Coll McSheen?"
"I didn't tell you, did I? You can swear to that. Now give me five dollars and let me go."
"I haven't any money at all, but I'll take you to a doctor and get your wound dressed. I have to go to one, too."
"I don' want no doctor—I'm all right."
"No, I won't give you up," I said, "if you'll tell me the truth. I'm not after you. If I'd wanted to give you up, I'd have fired this pistol and brought the police. Come on. But don't try to run off or I'll let you have it."
He came along, at first surlily enough; but presently he appeared to get in a better temper, at least with me, and turned his abuse on his pal for deserting him. He declared that he had not meant to do me any harm, in fact, that he had only met the other man accidentally and did not know what he was going to do, etc.
I was so fortunate as to find my friend Dr. Traumer at home, and he looked after the wound in the scoundrel's throat and then took a look at my hurt.
"You had a close graze," he said, "but I don't think it is anything more serious than a bad scrape on your head, and a laceration and bruise on the shoulder."
While he was working on the footpad I telephoned Langton, got hold of him and asked him to come there, which he said he would do at once. Just as the doctor was through with me, Langton walked in. I never saw so surprised an expression on his face as that when his eyes fell on my thug. I saw at once that he knew him. But as usual he said nothing. The thug, too, evidently knew he was an officer; for he gave me one swift glance of fear. I, however, allayed his suspicion.