o forms near the bed moving about
like shadows: two red objects that resembled dancing telegraph poles
leaped past him from he knew not where, and then there was a shout, the
report of a pistol, a horrid yell. Something heavy crashed down beside
him and writhed. His eyes were closing, his senses were going, he was
numb and sleepy. Away off in the distance he heard Harry Anguish crying:

"That settles you, damn you!"

Some one lifted his head from the carpet and a woman's voice was crying
something unintelligible. He was conscious of an effort on his part to
prevent the blood from streaming over her gown--a last bit of gallantry.
The sound of rushing feet, shouts, firearms--oblivion!

. . . . . . . . . . .

When Lorry regained consciousness, he blinked in abject amazement. There
was a dull, whirring sound in his ears, and his eyes had a glaze over
them that was slow in wearing off. There were persons in the room. He
could see them moving about and could hear them talking. As his eyes
tried to take in the strange surroundings, a hand was lifted from his
forehead and a soft, dream-like voice said:

"He is recovering, Mr. Anguish. See, his eyes are open! Do you know me,
Mr. Lorry?"

The unsteady eyes wandered until they fell upon the face near his
pillow. A brighter gleam came into them, and there was a ray of
returning intelligence. He tried to speak, but could only move his lips.
As he remembered her, she was in white, and he was puzzled now to see
her in a garment of some dark material, suggestive of the night or the
green of a shady hillside. There was the odor of roses and violets and
carnations. Then he looked for the fatal, fearful, glaring chandelier.
It was gone. The room was becoming lighter and lighter as his eyes
grew stronger, but it was through a window near where he lay. So it was
daylight! Where was he?

"How do you feel, old man?" asked a familiar voice. A man sat down
beside him on the couch or bed, and a big hand grasped his own. Still he
could not answer.

"Doctor," cried the voice near his head, "you really think it is not
serious?"

"I am quite sure," answered a man's voice from somewhere out in the
light. "It is a bad cut, and he is just recovering from the effect of
the ether. Had the blow not been a glancing one his skull would have
been crushed. He will be perfectly conscious in a short time. There is
no concussion, your Highness."

"I am so happy to hear you say that," said the so