XVIII — Simple Simon Met a Gunman
“God be praised that you are safe returned, Messieurs,” she said, with a little gesture of relief, lowering the toy weapon to her side.
“Our friend?” asked the Duke anxiously. “Have you seen him?”
“What, the little one? Is he not with you?”
“We sent him on ahead nearly an hour ago. It is as I feared. He has been shot.” De Richleau sank heavily into a chair.
“Monsieur le Duc is wounded,” she exclaimed, as she saw the blood oozing from his shoulder.
“It is nothing, Mademoiselle; a flesh wound only.”
“Wait but one minute, and I will wash the wound.” She set water to boil, and took some strips of linen from a cupboard.
Rex was still standing at the door. “Guess I’ll go back and look for Simon,” he said simply.
“Let Mademoiselle dress my hurt, and I will come with you.” The Duke grimaced with pain as he struggled out of his greatcoat.