" And
with this he fell into silence.
Some time passed. Twice the Captain pulled out his watch and
looked at it. Shortly after nine o'clock the beat of hoofs came
up the driveway, and the Captain turned his head toward the
entrance and waited. A moment later the door opened and three
men stood framed in the doorway. Two of them--one in civilian
dress--were endeavoring to hold up a third between them. The
central figure presented an alarming picture. His cuirass and
white trousers were splashed with blood, and his head rolled
from side to side, almost insensibly.
"A thousand devils!" exclaimed the Captain at the sight of this
unexpected tableau. He sprang up, toppling over his chair.
"What's this? Von Mitter? Blood? Have those damned students--"
"A brush on the lake road," interrupted Sharfenstein,
breathlessly. "Help him over to a chair, Monsieur Carewe. That's
it."
"Have you a knife, Captain?" asked Maurice.
The Captain whipped out his knife, locked it, and gave it to
Maurice. "Riemer," he called to one of the cuirassiers, who were
rising from the mess table, "bring out your box of instruments;
and you, Scharfenstein, a basin of cold water.
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