Courtlaw was alarmed at the man's pallor.
"You mustn't talk any more," he said, "but I want you to listen to me
just for a moment. The doctor will be here to see you in five minutes.
The nurse sent for him as soon as she saw that you were conscious. It
is very possible that he will ask you to tell him before witnesses how
you received your wound."
The man smiled at him.
"You are their friend, then?"
"I am," Courtlaw answered.
"Which one?"
"The one whose life you have been making a burden, who has been all
the time shielding her sister. I would have married her long ago, but
she will not have me."
"Bring her--here," Hill muttered. "I----"
The door opened, and the doctor entered softly. Hill closed his eyes.
Courtlaw stood up.
"He has asked to see some one," he whispered to the doctor. "Is there
any urgency?"
The doctor bent over his patient, who seemed to have fallen asleep.
Presently he turned to Courtlaw.
"I think," he said, "that I would fetch any one whom he has asked to
see. His condition is not unfavourable, but there may be a relapse at
any moment."
So only a few minutes after Ennison's departure, while Anna stood
indeed with her sister's open letter still in her hand, Courtlaw drove
up in hot haste. She opened the door to him herself.
"Will you come round to the hospital?" he asked. "Hill has asked for
you, and they will take his depositions to-night."
She slipped on her cloak and stepped into the hansom with him. They
drove rapidly through the emptying streets.
"Will he die?" she asked.
"Impossible to say," he answered. "We have a private room at St.
Felix. Everything is being done that can be."
"You are sure that he asked for me--not for Annabel?"
"Certain," Courtlaw answered.
"Has he accused any one yet?"
"Not yet," he answered. "I have scarcely left his side."
He was still conscious when they reached the hospital and his state
was much more favourable. The doctor and another man were by his
bedside when they entered the room, and there were writing materials
which had evidently been used close at hand. He recognised Anna, and
at once addressed her.
"Thank you--for coming," he said. "The doctor has asked me to give
them my reasons--for shooting myself. I've told them all that was
necessary, but I--wanted to ask your pardon--for having made myself a
nuisance to you, and for breaking into your rooms--and to thank
you--the doctor says you bound up my wound--or I should have bled to
death."
"I forgive you willingly," Anna said, bending over him. "It has all
been a mistake, hasn't it?"
"No more talking," the doctor interposed.