Then she hastened
forward into the room towards which he had pointed and the door of
which stood open. The commissionaire followed her. The servants were
beginning to appear.
The room was in darkness save for one electric light. A groan,
however, directed them. She fell on her knees by Wingrave's prostrate
figure and raised his head slightly. His servant, too, was hurrying
forward. She looked up.
"Get me some brandy," she ordered. "Send someone for a doctor. Don't
let that young man escape. The brandy, quick!"
She forced some between his lips. There was already a spot of blood
upon the gown which, a few minutes ago, had seemed so immaculate. One
of the ornaments fell from her hair. It lay unnoticed by her side.
Suddenly Wingrave opened his eyes. She saw at once that he was
conscious and that he recognized her.
"Don't move, please," she begged. "It will be better for you not to
speak. The doctor will be here directly."
He nodded.
"I don't think that I am much hurt," he said slowly. "Your young
friend was a born bungler!"
She shuddered, but said nothing.
"How on earth," he asked, "did you get here?"
She whispered in his ear.
"The brute--telephoned. Please don't talk."
The doctor arrived. His examination was over in a few moments.
"Nothing serious," he declared. "The knife was pretty blunt
fortunately. How did it happen? It seems like a case for the police."
"It was an accident," Wingrave declared coolly.
Pages:
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242