Rex leant on Simon’s chest, and pressed the cloth over his mouth. “You fit?” he asked.
“Yes.” De Richleau straddled Simon’s legs. “Now,” he said. “Hold him tight”
For a moment nothing happened, then Simon gave a sudden squeal — his eyes opened, and he wiggled his head wildly as he glared at Rex.
“Take a pull, Simon — all over in a minute,” Rex tried to soothe him.
“I’ve got it,” gasped the Duke, in triumph. “You can let him go.” Rex released his grasp on the unfortunate Simon.
“There,” said De Richleau, holding out the round lead bullet, much as a dentist might a first tooth that he had removed from a frightened child. “Look, you would have had all sorts of trouble from that later!”
Simon looked — and then looked away, groaning, the wound had begun to well blood rapidly again.
Marie Lou began to try and staunch it. “What have you done?” she cried, angrily. “The poor little one — see how you have made him bleed!”
“No matter, it will heal all the better now we have the bullet,” smiled the Duke, taking the iodine from her.
“Now, Simon, my son, this is going to hurt.”