king at him, and I took the garments
which Godfrey held out to me. Then I went over to Swain and put the
flask into his uninjured hand. "Take a drink of that," I said.

He did not understand at first; then he put the flask to his lips and
drank eagerly--so eagerly that I had to draw it away. He watched me
longingly as I screwed on the cap and slipped it into my pocket; and
there was more colour in his face and a brighter light in his eyes.

"Now, come along," I said, "and get that cut fixed up."

He rose obediently and followed me out into the hall. Godfrey had
preceded us, found the light-switch after a brief search, and turned
it on.

"There's a switch in the bath-room, too, no doubt," he said. "Bring
him down again, as soon as you get him fixed up. You'll find some
cotton and gauze in one of the pockets of the coat."

Swain followed me up the stair and into the bath-room. He seemed to
understand what I intended doing, for he divested himself of coat and
shirt and was soon washing arms and face vigorously. Then he dried
himself, and stood patiently while I washed and bandaged the cut on
the wrist. It was not a deep one, and had about stopped bleeding.

"Feel better?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, and without waiting for me to tell him, slipped into
the clean shirt which Godfrey had brought, attached the collar and
tied the tie, all this quite composedly and without hesitation or
clumsiness. Yet I felt, in some indefinable way, that something was
seriously wrong with him. His eyes were vacant and his face flabby, as
though the muscles were relaxed. It gave me the feeling that his
intelligence was relaxed, too!

He picked up his own coat, but I stopped him.

"Don't put that on," I said, speaking to him as I would have spoken to
a child. "The sleeve is blood-stained and there's a long tear down the
side. Take this one," and I held out the light lounging-coat Godfrey
had brought with him.

Swain laid down his own garment without a word and put on the other
one. I rolled the soiled garments into a bundle, took them under my
arm, turned out the lights, and led the way downstairs.

A murmur of voices from the library told me that someone had arrived,
and when I reached the door, I saw that it was the doctor and the
nurse. The former was just rising from a rapid examination of the
quivering figure on the couch.

"We must get her to bed at once," he said, turning to Godfrey. "Her
bedroom's upstairs, I suppose?"

"