"Bless my soul!" said the doctor. "Was he hurt?"
"No," said I; "that's the funny thing about it. Knowing how seedy he was, I expected to find him dead; but, on the contrary, he seemed to be none the worse for it."
Ritchie nodded his head. "It's quite possible," he said thoughtfully. "A shock of some kind may have been just what he needed. Still, it must have been touch-and-go. What happened to the man?"
"Unfortunately," I said, "he got away. It's an extraordinary case, because I engaged him through Seagrave's, and his references were all right, according to them. I'm going straight round there now."
"I should," said the doctor, "and, what's more, I should put the matter in the hands of the police right away."
"Quite so," I assented cordially though it was the very last thing I had any intention of doing; and with this extra fib I led the way down to the basement.
Far from being any the worse for this night's adventure, we found the gallant Milford sitting up in bed, shifting a large bowl of bread-and-milk with evident enjoyment.
"Hullo, Milford!" I said. "That looks hopeful."
The good fellow positively grinned. "I feel much better to-day, thank you, sir. I really think I can get up and do my work."
"I don't know about that," remarked the doctor, laughing, "but there's no doubt that fighting burglars agrees with you. Let's feel your pulse."