p the brute or send him at the
hedge to the right?"

"He's hard in the mouth--you know his temper. You couldn't have turned
him."

"I'd have tried, if I'd had to bring him down and break his neck!"

Nasmyth checked himself, for this was not the time for recriminations,
and Millicent, who had been running hard, brushed past them. She did not
stop until she bent over Lisle. Then she turned to Nasmyth with fear in
her strained expression.

"I think he'll get over it," Nasmyth told her. "I won't take the
responsibility of having him moved until the doctor arrives."

"Quite right," agreed Batley, walking up and casting a swift and
searching glance at Gladwyne.

"But you can't let him lie on the wet grass!" Millicent expostulated.

"I'm afraid we must; it's safest," said Batley. "The shock's not so much
to be dreaded with a man of his kind."

He and Nasmyth took charge of the situation, sternly refusing to listen
to all well-meant suggestions, until at last the doctor and Marple came
hurrying across the field. The former hastily examined the injured man
and then looked up at Nasmyth.

"Upper arm gone, close to the shoulder joint," he announced. "Collar-bone
too. I'll give him some brandy. Shout to those fellows with the
stretcher."

He was busy for some time, and in the meanwhile Batley picked up the
flask he had laid down and handed it to Gladwyne.

"Take a good drink and pull yourself together," he said quietly.

At length Lisle was gently lifted on to the stretcher, and as they
carried him away the report of a gun ran out. The onlookers dispersed and
Gladwyne was walking home alone when Millicent overtook him. She was
puzzled by his limp appearance and the expression of his haggard face. It
was only natural that he should keenly feel his responsibility for the
accident, but this did not quite seem to account for the man's condition.
He looked absolutely unnerved, like one who had barely escaped from some
appalling catastrophe.

"You shouldn't take it quite so much to heart," she comforted him. "I
don't think Irvine felt any great uneasiness; and nobody could blame
you."

"You're the only one who has said so," he answered moodily.

"They couldn't; you stole away. Of course, it's a great pity--I'm
distressed--but you must try to be sensible. These accidents happen."

He walked on a while in silence, and then with an effort looked around at
her.

"Millicent," he said, "you're wonderfully generous--the si