"Good Lord!" I cried, starting up. "Where am I? What's happened?"
Christine sat down beside me, and very tenderly took my hand in hers.
"You are back on the island, dear, in your own room. There's nothing to be anxious about or worried over. It's all finished, and we are just here together—you and I and Bobby."
I let my head sink back on the pillows.
"I remember now," I said. "I stopped a bullet, didn't I? I've a sort of recollection of seeing a lot of stars, and after that everything's a blank."
Bobby seated himself on the other side of my couch.
"This is splendid," he remarked. "You'll be asking for a whisky and soda before we know where we are."
Christine leaned forward and rearranged the pillows.
"Tell me," she whispered, "is your head hurting you very much?"
I put my hand to my forehead and found it encircled by a wet bandage.