d rage he jumped into the
fountain and closed with Radowitz. The Pole had no chance against him,
and after a short struggle, Radowitz fell heavily, catching in his fall
at a piece of rusty piping, part of some disused machinery of
the fountain.

There was a cry. In a moment it sobered the excited group of men.
Falloden, who had acted as leader throughout, called peremptorily to
Robertson. "Is he hurt? Let him up at once."

Robertson in dismay stooped over the prostrate form of Radowitz, and
carried him to the edge of the fountain. There it was seen that the lad
had fainted, and that blood was streaming from his right hand.

"He's cut it on that beastly piping--it's all jagged," gasped Robertson.
"I say, can anybody stop the bleeding?"

One Desmond, an Etonian who had seen one or two football accidents,
knelt down, deadly pale, by Radowitz and rendered a rough first-aid. By
a tourniquet of handkerchiefs he succeeded in checking the bleeding. But
it was evident that an artery was injured.

"Go for a doctor," said Falloden to Meyrick, pointing to the lodge.
"Tell the porter that somebody's been hurt in a lark. You'll probably
find a cab outside. We'll carry him up."

In a few minutes they had laid the blood-stained and unconscious
Radowitz on his bed, and were trying in hideous anxiety to bring him
round. The moment when he first opened his eyes was one of unspeakable
relief to the men who in every phase of terror and remorse were gathered
round him. But the eyelids soon fell again.

"You'd better go, you fellows," said Falloden, looking round him.
"Robertson and I and Desmond will see the doctor."

The others stole away. And the three men kept their vigil. The
broad-shouldered Wykehamist, utterly unnerved, sat by the bed trembling
from head to foot. Desmond kept watch over the tourniquet.

Falloden stood a little apart, in a dead silence, his eyes wandering
occasionally from the figure on the bed to the open window, through
which could be seen the summer sky, and a mounting sun, just touching
the college roofs. The college clock struck half past four. Not two
hours since Radowitz and Constance Bledlow had held the eyes of Oxford
in the Magdalen ballroom.

CHAPTER X

Radowitz woke up the following morning, after the effects of the dose of
morphia administered by the surgeon who had dressed his hand had worn
off, in a state of complete bewilderment. What had happened to him? Why
was he lying in this strang