THE GIRL IN HIS HOUSE
paused at the rear door, listening. He could still hear the buzzer going. He unchained the door and opened it slightly.
"Edmonds, that you? Let me in."
"Who is it?"
"Armitage. I guess I'm a bit hurt."
Edmonds swung open the door, and the man lurched in.
"Good Heavens, sir!"
"Better call Bob."
Armitage hauled a chair over to the sink and sat down. With his right hand he lifted his left arm—singulariy inert—and rested it in the sink.
Edmonds did not have to summon his master. Bob had also heard the bell. He met the butler at the pantry door.
"What's all this racket, Edmonds?"
"Mr. Armitage, sir. Says he's hurt."
Burlingham rushed out into the kitchen.
"Jim, what on earth's happened?"
"Bullet through the fleshy part of my arm. Nothing serious, but rather messy. It's my ankle that really bothers me. Get me some bandages, will you, old scout? I've lost considerable blood."
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