would run gave additional strength to the robber, for he made a single
desperate effort, tore himself from the iron grasp that held him down,
rose to his knee, and striking the Doctor a blow in the face that for a
moment bewildered him, sprang to his feet, dashed Harson from the door,
bounded across the room between the hall and the street-door, and darted
into the street at full speed.

'D--n me, Harry, he's off!' said the Doctor, assuming a sitting posture on
the floor. 'He deserves to escape, for he fought like a devil for it. D--n
him, he's a brave fellow! There's no use in chasing him, I suppose; you
and I ain't cut out for running. If that last crack had hit me on the
nose, it would have smashed it. Come, let's see after the other fellow;
perhaps he's playing possum, and may be off. If you don't stop the barking
of that d----d dog of yours, I'll kill him.' Groping their way back to the
upper floor, from which they caught sight of Spite, rapidly retreating as
they advanced, they found the house-keeper standing in the room which they
had just left, arrayed in a particularly large white night-gown and
wearing a particularly high cap, with a particularly fierce white ribbon
on the top of it, and bearing in her hand a dim rush-light.

'Quick! Martha; more lights, and some brandy!' said Harson, pushing past
her. 'Thank God! _you're_ not hurt, Annie! Come, Doctor, this poor devil
is human,' said he, pointing to Craig, who lay on the floor apparently
dead. 'Look to him; he breathes. I hear him.'

It needed no second appeal; for before he had finished, the Doctor had
turned the robber over, opened his vest, and displayed a wound in his
breast. He thrust his finger in it, and then looking up at Harry, shook
his head.

'He's a case; _must_ go!'

'Poor fellow! God only knows what may have driven him to this. Help me to
put him on the bed.'

Taking him in their arms, they placed him on the bed; and there they sat
and watched him until the dawn of day. The bright sunshine came cheerily
in at the window; the storm had passed, and the sky looked clear and blue,
as if it had never been unruffled. And at that hour, and in that room,
with the golden sunbeams streaming in, lay Tim Craig, his head pressed
heavily back upon the pillow, bound round with a cloth dabbled in blood.
His face was blackened and bruised, and his shirt and the bed-clothes
stained with blood. His breath was short and heavy, and at times, gasping;
his mout