“Do you hear? You have got to get out of this. You want a doctor. I’ll see you half-way to Ste. Claire.”
Bibi grunted.
“I can’t do it.”
Brent spoke quietly, but he showed no mercy.
“Get up. No, I’m not going to help you, or touch you. You will get a doctor at Ste. Claire; you’ll get no doctor in Beaucourt.”
And Louis Blanc moved. He rose slowly on his feet, steadying himself against the wall, and stood there, feeling his strength.
“Come on,” he said sullenly, “you are merciful sort of people, you two. I’m half blind. You’d like to see me in the ditch, wouldn’t you? But I’ll get to Ste. Claire.”
Manon had slipped a paper of bread and cheese into Paul’s pocket.
“Quick march.”
He watched Bibi grope to the door, and half feel his way out of the house and down into the street. It was growing dark, and Brent followed him at a distance of a couple of yards, the revolver in one hand, the iron bar in the other.