had a reddish glow. A bold, honest face with plenty of brow. Reggie went over his body with an anatomical enthusiasm for so splendid a specimen.
"Get me some warm water, will you?" Holt went out of the room. Reggie bent over the broad chest. From it, from just above the heart, he drew out a thin sliver of steel. He made a face at it and put it away. Holt came back, and there was sponging and bandaging.
"You washed him before, I see. Any one else touched him but you?"
"Only carrying him, sir. I've been with him the whole time. I found him."
"Oh. Lying on his face, I suppose?"
"No, sir. On his back. Just like he is now."
"Oh. Notice anything?"
"No, sir, I wish I had. I'd like to have the handling of the bounder that did it."
"Well, well, we mustn't get excited. Preserve absolute calm. Holt. He's well liked, is he?"
"Why, sir, we'd do anything for him. He—oh, he's a gentleman."
"Quite so. You mustn't leave him a moment. No one—see, no one—is to come into the room. I'll be back soon."
"Very good, sir. Beg pardon, sir." The good Holt flushed. "What's the verdict?"
"It's not all over yet!" Reggie went downstairs.
