Headland having helped Harry to his room, received his directions where to find the servants, and went in search of them without waiting to hear more of his adventures.
“Thieves and robbers in the house! I’ll be after them anon,” exclaimed Boodle, the old butler, from within, giving sundry grunts and groans while trying to arouse himself.
Directly afterwards he made his appearance with night-cap on head, his breeches just slipped on supported by a single brace, and his feet in slippers, while in one hand was a blunderbuss and the other held a candle.
“You will find no thieves to fight with,” said Headland, smiling at his appearance. “We only want you to bring a bottle of wine as a cordial, and afterwards to obtain some bandages from the housekeeper. Call some one to take Mr Harry’s horse, and come as soon as you can.”
Headland hurried back to Harry’s room.
“I believe I have only received flesh wounds of no great consequence, and shall soon be all to rights,” said Harry.
“Had we not better send off for a surgeon,” asked Headland, “though I will do my best in the meantime.”
“He or the messenger might be shot at on his way,” answered Harry. “Your doctoring will be quite sufficient for the present, and we shall see how I feel in the morning.”
Boodle soon appeared with the wine. He almost let the bottle drop as he saw the blood on Harry’s dress.
“Dear, dear! what has happened, Mr Harry?” he asked with a look of horror.